Body Issues II: Growing Pains
by Kryten
Summary: Crimefighting is easy. Growing up is hard. Join Helga and her friends as they weather the ups and downs of teenage life. Think of it as The Patakis... with super-powers
1. Recap

**A.N.: This is the official sequel to my previous series Body Issues, and while I would love it you folks who haven't read it yet would check it out, it's also 48 chapters and nearly 170K words long, so, what follows is a very abridged version of the events of that story. If you do want to read the original instead, skip this and wait for Chapter 2.**

**BODY ISSUES 2: GROWING PAINS**

Chapter 1: Obligatory Recap

_For those who came in late:_

_The Body Issues universe is… a bit different. Of course, everything that happened in the series, the two movies, and probably those chapter books that I haven't actually read, happened as seen, but the world these characters live in is a bit… stranger. The uncanny can, and does, happen here._

_Of course, we all know the story of the Jungle Movie. Helga, in an attempt to get closer to Arnold, enters an essay contest to win the class a trip to San Lorenzo. Little does the class know that the contest is actually a ruse plotted by the evil La Sombra to lure Arnold to San Lorenzo in an attempt to locate the sacred relic of the Green-Eyes Tribe, El Corazon. As we all know, Arnold and his friends thwarted La Sombra and his pirate crew, and Arnold was reunited with his parents and began a new relationship with Helga._

_What we don't know is that La Sombra had a second goal. He was actually being funded by a mysterious benefactor, in exchange for locating another lost relic, one of the fabled Goddess Stones, said to grant great power and immortality._

_He died before he could find the relic, but unbeknownst to him, Rhonda (literally) tripped over it during the trek to his base. The so-called Goddess stone was actually a tiny geode which broke open, releasing a cloud of dust that she, Helga, and Phoebe accidentally inhaled. They coughed for a bit but generally thought nothing of it at the time._

_The dust was no ordinary dust, though… it contained a strain of extraterrestrial spores that took up residence in the girls' bloodstreams and incubated for several months, until that December, when the school board sponsored a flu shot program. When the three got their shot, the spores merged with the flu vaccine and caused it to mutate. Helga and Rhonda at first developed what just seemed to be a severe fever, but it soon became clear that nothing about it was ordinary. After Arnold brought Helga to the school nurse, she began to change color and sprout new limbs. The nurse called in the CDC, and Helga was bundled into a van by supposed agents of the organization, who actually turned out to be agents of La Sombra's mystery benefactor. She was shipped to a hidden facility in Wyoming, where she found out Rhonda had been captured by the same people. La Sombra's patron, AKA "The Old Man", had been using his organization to intercept any reports of odd mutations, and the two girls certainly qualified. _

_Though the two despised each other, they were forced to admit they would have to work together if they had any hope of surviving their captivity. Their physical transformations completed, resulting in unusual skin coloration and the growth of wings, tails, horns, a second set of arms, and a third eye… but also greatly increased strength, a degree of invulnerability, and a unique power for each girl… heat and cold manipulation for Helga and electricity control for Rhonda. The two used their newfound abilities to escape the Old Man's facility and slowly made their way across the Northwest, having numerous adventures as their grudging cooperation slowly gave way to a budding friendship. They even revealed their deepest secrets, Helga her relationship with Arnold and Rhonda her crush on Lila._

_While the duo journeyed back to Hillwood, Arnold and Gerald learned that Rhonda had been kidnapped and discovered Phoebe was going through a bizarre metamorphosis (the same Rhonda and Helga were, though the two had no way of knowing about it at the time. By this time, it had been clear Helga had vanished, and when Arnold realized Phoebe's early symptoms matched Helga's, he began to speculate that her disappearance, Rhonda's abduction, and Helga's disappearance were all connected. Phoebe was rushed to a lab at the former FTI building, now owned by an independent think tank, where Stella Shortman took lead in studying her condition. Meanwile, Olga decided to mount her own investigation of Helga's disappearance, leading her to join Bridget's organization._

_After their long journey, Rhonda and Helga arrived home, Helga joyfully reuniting with Arnold and Phoebe and Rhonda with her parents and Nadine, and the friends learning the truth of their metamorphosis from Stella. Less joyfully, Helga discovered that in her absence, Miriam had further descended into alcoholism and Bob had made a desperate attempt to safe his business by throwing in with Hillwood mob chief Little Gino. After Bob called her a monster, she stormed out and moved in to a spare room in the boarding house. Angered by Bob's treatment of Helga, Miriam walked out on Bob for good, eventually moving in with Helga at the boarding house and making a sincere attempt to get clean, while Bob, realizing just how badly he screwed up, sank into a deep depression._

_The Old Man, meanwhile, frustrated that none of his attempts to recapture the girls had succeeded, made a deal with a malevolent extradimensional entity that had contacted him in his dreams. The entity promised that, in exchange for one of the girls as its permanent host body, it would deliver the Old Man a DNA sample. The entity attempted to gain control of the girls by manipulating their dreams, but they saw through its attempts and successfully resisted his influence. _

_Tired of being isolated from their friends, the girls came up with a plan to try to smooth over the revelation. With the holidays approaching, Rhonda decided to throw a combined Christmas/Halloween party, since they could pass off their appearances as "costumes" before the big reveal at the end of the party, giving the gang a chance to get used to their new look. The plan seemed to be going smoothly until Curly's antics caused Rhonda to lose her shit and blow their cover. Sid, already suspicious by nature, fanned the group into a panic until Brainy, of all people, calmed them down with a heartfelt speech. The gang apologized for their behavior and the party continued without a hitch. Emboldened, Helga finally announced that she and Arnold were a couple and anyone who didn't like it could lump it. Rhonda, in turn, felt encouraged to be honest and confessed her crush to Lila, who was flattered but turned her down gently._

_Everything seemed to be going well, until the Old Man's mercenaries attacked while Rhonda and a few stragglers were cleaning up, wielding weapons designed specifically to harm the mutants. Lila, who had stayed around to help clean up, was gravely injured in the melee and Helga was forced to save her life the only way she knew how… infecting her with the live mutagenic virus in her blood. The tide of the battle finally turned when Phoebe discovered that her unique power was magnetism, allowing her to easily disarm their opponents._

_Lila was rushed to Stella's care, but the her injuries and transformation deeply traumatized her. The entity that had been tormenting the girls in their dreams took advantage of her trauma, appearing to her as an angel and convincing the deeply religious girl that she had died in the battle and was now in purgatory. Meanwhile, blaming herself for Lila's injury, Rhonda spiraled into depression until Nadine managed to pull her out of it, letting slip that she'd had feelings for her friend for some time now. The two spent the night together (G-Rated! They're only 12!) and took the first steps to a new relationship._

_Believing "the angel" to be her only way to salvation, Lila made a deal with it, winding up expelled from her body and helpless to stop anything. Now in possession of Lila's body, the entity fulfilled its bargain with the Old Man, delivering a sample of her blood. It's end of the deal held up, the entity decided to take advantage of its powerful new body to indulge in mayhem both petty (attempting to ruin Rhonda and Nadine's budding romance) and blunt (rampaging at a nearby department store). _

_Desperate to find some way to undo what she had done, Lila managed to get in touch with Madame Blanche, who it turned out really did have some degree of psychic ability, and the two were able to warn her friends that Lila's body was possessed. Phoebe, Helga and Rhonda were able to subdue Lila with a bit of help from a few of Bridget's agents, including Olga, and with the help of a scientist who had some experience dealing with the entity, managed to expel it from Lila's body and the material plane, and return Lila's spirit to her body properly._

_The Old Man, revealed now to be none other than legendary Prohibition-era gangster Wheezin' Ed, wasted no time using the blood sample, and used his empowered, rejuvenated body to quickly take control of the Hillwood underworld, But something had gone wrong with the process, and his body was starting to deteriorate. His personal doctor concluded their best bet was to capture and experiment on one of the four girls to find some way of reversing the deterioration, since they had been mutated longer and shown no signs of the deterioration. To this end, Wheezin' Ed captured Bob Pataki and secretly contacted Helga, demanding she surrender herself in exchange for Bob's life. Helga at the time was surrounded by her friends, so she faked a temper tantrum to throw them off and escaped to the Beeper Emporium, where Bob was being held by Ed. After making sure he was okay, and knowing Ed had no intention of letting either go free, Helga took Ed on solo, giving her father the chance to escape. Though Helga had more experience using her new body and powers, it became quite clear that she was out of her depth in a one-on-one match with the larger and much more brutal ganglord. During their fight, the Beeper Emporium's structure was compromised beyond the point of no return and began to collapse on top of them. Both would have very likely perished had Rhonda and Pheobe, who had not been fooled by Helga's blowup for a second, arrived to rescue her. While Phoebe used her magnetic powers to brace the collapsing building, Rhonda pulled Helga out, leaving Phoebe free to drop the building on Wheezin' Ed._

_Of course, as all horror movie fans know, the monster is __never__ dead the first time. Wheezin' Ed, his deterioration, both mental and physical, accelerating, dug himself out of the rubble and made a final desperate attempt to finish the girls off. Rhonda, being the only one in any shape to fight, used a desperation technique of her own to augment her strength to fight Ed to a standstill. Finally, when Rhonda was on the verge of collapse, the gangster succumbed to his deteriorating condition and died, leaving behind a tumor-ridden corpse. It's now being studied by top men. Top. Men._

_With the last of the threats against them defeated, the girls learned that Dr. Shortman had come up with a "cure"…. Sort of. While they were still mutants, she was able to give them the ability to assume their old human forms for extended periods of time (at the cost of most of their powers). The girls decided that they were actually pretty cool with this, and Helga, Rhonda, Phoebe and Lila returned to school, while secretly beginning crimefighting careers under the alter-egos Temper, Joule, Magnetica, and Decibelle, respectively._

_Her work curing the girls done, Stella reunited with Miles back at the boarding house, the two discussing whether they should reveal one final secret…. that Helga's superhuman form also just happens to look just like an image of Xothipacla, the Green Eyes' goddess of love. For the time being, they decided to keep the possibility of Helga's possible avatar of godhood status under wraps._

_Time has passed since then… while Bob and Miriam Pataki's marriage was officially dissolved, another was born as Lila's father and the former Suzie Kokoshka tied the knot. Rhonda's parents welcomed their new daughter Rhia to the world, Nadine and Rhonda's relationship has gone public, and Curly has finally gotten over Rhonda and begun a new relationship with Sheena._

_Yesterday was the last day of Grade 10. Tonight is Rhonda Lloyd's official annual end-of-school bash, and for one couple, everything is about to change…_

* * *

**A.N.: Welcome back! This series is going to be a bit more episodic than the last one, but there will be character arcs throughout the whole thing. Expect plenty of teen hijinks and drama, along with the usual dash of weirdness. I don't know when the real first chapter'll be up, but hopefully this'll fill the gap for anyone new to the story!**

**Next: Avoidance**


	2. Avoidance

_Obligtory disclaimer: I do not own Hey Arnold or any of the related characters. I am just playing in Craig Bartlett's sandbox._

Chapter 1

Avoidance

_-HELGA-_

"Smell that, Football Head?"

"Huh?" My boyfriend – how is it that almost four years later, that still floors me? I've had him for nearly half the time I spent chasing after him, but it still catches me off-guard sometimes that he and me actually happened – snapped out of his usual fog at the sound of my voice. The boy's dreamy nature is adorable, but it gets awfully inconvenient when you want to have a conversation with him.

"I said, 'smell that?'"

He took a whiff. "All I smell is pine-scented air freshener."

"It's freedom, Arnoldo. Sweet, sweet freedom from our annual prison sentence. Ten glorious weeks before we get shipped back to the Big House."

The two of us were in a Ryde bound for Rhonda's place. Today was her big formal end-of-school party. Now, normally I'm not one to dress up, but this was AN EVENT and as a bosom pal of the host, I was expected to make an appearance (and if I didn't, I would never hear the end of it). And so, it had become my duty to undertake a truly daunting task for me; actually finding a decent formal dress. Luckily, I happened to have a sister who had attended a lot of formal galas in her time as Literally The Most Amazing Person Ever, and ever since my, ahem, _blossoming_ I actually fit in her hand-me-downs now. Most of them were a bit too her for me, but I did manage to finally settle on a simple pink cocktail dress, accented by a borrowed strand of Olga's pearls and a pair of imitation-diamond studs I'd found at a thrift store. I'd even worn, shocker, makeup for the occasion… just some lip gloss, mascara and eyeliner, but for me, that was a pretty big deal. No heels, though. I have some standards.

Arnold, for his part, cut a pretty dashing figure in the one good suit he had. He still wasn't what you could really call tall, but he had definitely bulked up a bit since our PS118 days, so he didn't look quite as top-heavy as he once did. The fact that he'd started wearing his hair shorter helped too…. It was still spiky and unruly, but the shorter length made him look less like an upside-down broom with the middle bristles missing and more like the lost middle child of Goku. He'd actually combed it tonight. It looked good. Real good. Arnold-maybe-gets-to-third-base-tonight good.

"I guess," he replied, seeming to drift back away. Hmm. This wasn't the usual half-lidded Arnold dreaminess; something else seemed to be at work here. 'Are you okay?" I asked. "You seem… distant?"

"Oh… it's nothing. Just, y'know… thinking about the future…"

"Yeah, me too. The very near future. And how much of Rhonda's shrimp I'm gonna eat during it. C'mon, yutz, it's a party. I didn't make myself look presentable so you could mope all night."

"Sorry, sorry…" He smiled. "You're right. We should be having fun."

"If we ever get there," I grumbled. This guy was driving slower than the plot of a Dreiser novel. "Hey! Can we get a move on? You were already half an hour late picking us up!"

"Now now, young lady," the driver, a guy roughly between 80 and however old the universe is, warned. "We can get there fast, or we can get there alive. Which would you prefer?"

"I think he might be taking a gamble there on the second part," I whispered. Arnold chuckled a bit in spite of himself. Despite his general kindness and positivity, my barbs always somehow managed to make him laugh. "Lousy gig economy," I muttered "I should've flown us." I can do that, you know. Fly. When my wings are out. Which is not now.

"It's okay. It's not that far at this point." He squeezed my wrist, sending that tingle up my nerves that always managed to calm me down.

"Always the bright side with you, Hair Boy." I sighed. "What would I do without you?"

"Yeah," he said, and was I crazy or was there a bit of regret in that voice? "What would you do without me?"

* * *

"Helga!" squealed Rhonda, sweeping me up in a hug as we entered her huge domicile, "You look amazing!" Rhonda Wellington Lloyd was a naturally affectionate person, but she only broke out the big, rib-bruising hugs for a few people. I, unfortunately was one.

"Hey, Princess," I retorted. "Trying to make Arnold jealous?"

"Is it working?" she asked with a smirk.

"Careful," I said. "Aren't you taken?"

"Yes, she is," came a new voice. Nadine Robinson, clad in a black tux and turquoise bow tie, blonde braids pulled back in a bun, came over to claim her woman. Rhonda herself was dressed in a red (of course) backless gown and sported teardrop earrings that matched Nadine's tie. She was letter her hair grow out again these days. I couldn't put my finger on exactly who it was she reminded me of, but it was hard to argue that she didn't loo drop-dead gorgeous.

"Oh, butterfly, you know I don't actually mean anything by it!" pleaded Rhonda.

"Yeah, I know, you're a natural flirt, it's instinct to you." She sighed. "And you two have that whole mental bond thing, and we don't. and-"

"Hey! Hey!" I interrupted. "Rhonda and I haven't used that in years! Besides… I would _never _get between you. You guys are _disgustingly_ adorable together."

"Really?" Nadine asked, perking.

"I throw up a little in my mouth every time I see you two kiss." I assured.

"This is the sweetest she gets, dear, let's take what we can get," Rhonda confirmed, putting an arm around Nadine. "I think I'm pretty much done with the greeting anyway, so for now, I'm all yours until somebody breaks something."

"The curse of being a host, I guess," Nadine conceded.

"Sorry we were so late," Arnold apologized.

"We got the Ryde driver from hell," I added. "Guy had one foot on the brake and the other in the grave."

"It's fine," Rhonda replied., escorting us inside. "Let's just call it fashionably late. Now, I know what you really want to hear, so… buffet's in the main hall."

"Pfft," I scoffed. "I'm not that much of a food houn- ooh, is that prime rib I smell? *sniff* Just a shade off medium-rare?"

"I think you'll be very pleased, Helga." Rhonda assured.

Now inside, I scanned the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Brainy, as he usually did at these things, was DJing. Harold, naturally, was anchored to the buffet, Patty nearby trying not to look like she felt neglected. The rest of the gang was mingling, grouped by their particular social circles… Eugene and Sheena talking near the punch, with their respective dates, Scott and Curly… Sid and Stinky yucking it up off in the corner, their respective girfriends Lila and Gloria looking a bit irritated. I wondered if there was any truth to the rumor that they were planning on sneaking in some weed. Heh. That was all Sid needed. Something to make him twitchy and paranoid.

Finally, I found the exact couple I'd been looking for. "Hey, I think I see Pheebs and Geraldo," I said. Before he could reply, a new number started up. "Smashed," by Dino Spumoni.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "let's dance." He started tugging me out on the floor.

"Yeesh, Football Head, someone got all frisky all of a sudden. Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but I figured you'd at least wanna have a bit of bro time first while I strapped on the ol' feedbag."

"Well, hey, like they said, no time like the present, right?"

"Just try and keep up," I said.

He spun me around and dipped me dramatically in time to the music. "Funny," he said smirking, face inches from mine. "It seems like I'm the one leading."

"Why, Mistah Shawtman, aren't you just ever-so-forwahd today," I said in what was probably trying to be my best Scarlet O'Hara but was actually some strange blend of Lila, Bette Davis, Harley Quinn, and Bugs Bunny in drag. Stupid Arnold, throwing me off my game like that. I flashed back to that tango back in fourth grade. That had been steamy. Way too steamy for a couple of tweens. And then, it had all turned out to be a prank…. Or had it? That was what I'd thought at the time, and that feeling of betrayal had led me to double down on the mean for a while… but I had to wonder… had he already begun to fall for me at the time?

Regardless, that was the past. This was now, and we were in the now, letting the music guide our souls and our souls guide our movements and I was lost in _him_, we were lost in each other and all was perfect and the moment felt like one frozen tableau of blissful perfection.

"Well," I said, as the song tapered off, "You've definitely still got it."

"Let's keep going," he said. "I don't want this to ever stop."

"Whatever you say, Arnold," I replied dreamily, all thoughts of meeting our friends or food drifting off, washed away by the music and the rhythm, as one song blended into the next, the slow ones shifting to the up-tempo, the swing music giving way to the pop standards, none of it really mattering other than the effect it had on our bodies. There was nothing else, just music, and _us_.

And then t ended.

"I think Brainy must've taken a break," I said. "Our besties are probably thinking we ditched them, so maybe we should touch base and-"

"Attention, please!," Rhonda said, tapping the microphone, everyone cringing at the feedback noise. "First of all, I hope everyone's been having a great time. Second, I'd like to state that while I really don't care what you people put in your bodies on your own time, I can't have that kind of thing in my house. Again, it's not that I care, but we have a three-year-old in this house, and more importantly that three-year-old has a nanny with a nose like a bloodhound. She catches one whiff of the funny stuff and I'm getting banned from throwing another party 'til we're all in assisted living, so ixnay on the eedway. You all know who you are." She threw a pointed glance at Sid, who muttered something about narcs.

"And thirdly, this is a celebration, but it's also a goodbye to a lot of people who'll be leaving us for college this fall. First… our own Patty Smith, who I'm excited to announce has gotten into the exclusive Institute of Culinary Education in LA." The girl in question blushed in response to the applause. Rhonda continued to go down a list of all the graduating seniors and the colleges they'd been accepted to.

"Just think… that's gonna be us in a couple of years," I said, elbowing Arnold gently in the ribs. "Guess we'd better make the most of the time we have left, right?"

"Yeah… the time we have left," Arnold said, sighing.

"Oh, hey, c'mon, I didn't mean to depress you… We have two whole years! That's plenty of time! And then we can see if we can maybe get into the same college…"

"Helga…" he began, as if he was trying to say something, but he couldn't force himself to say it.

"Arnold… you've… kind of been off all evening. What's going on?"

"I… uh…"

"Spit it out, man! What's the problem?"

H continued to hem and haw, his eye wandering toward the stage between the double staircases. I followed his gaze to where Rhonda was just finishing her list, and spotted Gerald making his way up. "Scuse me," he said, "but there's one more goodbye. Someone I think we all know. A man who has touched al our lives in one way or another. In just two weeks, my man Arnold will be movin' to San Lorenzo."

"He is?" interjected Rhonda, clearly not expecting this.

That made two of us.

"Is this true?" I asked him. "You're leaving, and you didn't tell me?"

"I… was trying to find the right way…"

"You didn't seem to have a problem finding the right way to tell _Gerald_," I spat back, anger starting to seethe inside me like chili that had been left on the flame too long. "So _he_ gets to know, and I don't?"

"I-I just found out this morning, all right?" he said "It was a shock to me too!"

"And yet, not so shocking that you didn't have the presence of mind to tell him!"

"That's different!" he said. "He's practically the brother I never had!"

"And what am I?" I asked. "Only your girlfriend for the last five years! I guess that doesn't rate in your book, does it?"

He glared. "You know that's not true, Helga!"

"Is it?" I demanded. "Tell, me, just when were you going to tell me about this? Who else were you going to tell before you found the time in your busy schedule to let me know?"

"No one!" he shouted back "I was going to tell you, but after the party, okay! I didn't… I didn't want to ruin it for you."

I looked around; everyone was staring at our little spat by now. "And how'd _that_ work out, Football Head?"

"I… I'm sorry, Helga…" he said, reaching for me, but I pushed his hand away.

"Save it, Arnold. Right now… I think we should see other buffets."

I pushed past him and several other people that I couldn't be bothered to identify (though a nearby "I'm okay…" suggested one had landed on Eugene). I vaguely heard Rhonda shout "Okay, show's over, everyone! Leave them alone!" I didn't care. Everyone here was just an obstacle to me drowning my sorrows in free shrimp.

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

Well, that certainly could have gone a lot better.

I knew Helga well enough by now that trying to talk to her when she was this keyed up would just make her withdraw even more, so I decided to give her some space. Besides, right now she wasn't the one I had a problem with.

I made my way over to the stage and pulled Gerald aside. "What the hell was that?" I asked.

"What do you mean?" he said? I was just tryn' to give my bro the sendoff he deserves!"

"Yeah, well… your timing sucks. This is not how I wanted Helga to find out. I was going to tell her after the party. You know, when she was ready. But you had to go and ruin it."

"Mmm-hmm… so your problem is, that you had this important thing you needed to tell her, but you sat on it because you were afraid of how she'd react to it. Only, she found out anyway, and she's mad because you sat on it because you were afraid of how she'd react to it. Now… when you look at it… _whose_ fault does that sound like it is?"

I sighed deeply. "I really screwed this up, didn't I."

"It's not the end of the world, man. You've still got two weeks to clear the air between the two of you before you leave. If I was you, I'd get started on that. Now, I'm pretty sure by now that Phoebe's found Helga and is in the middle of trying to cool her down, so I'd wait 'til she's finished and then try to talk to her."

"Thanks," I said. "Sorry I yelled at you."

"Yeah, well… I probably shouldn't have made that announcement. I kinda just got swept up in the moment and all."

"It's okay, really. Don't worry about it."

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Helga?"

I looked up at Phoebe. I'd retreated to a remote guest room in the back of the mansion, hoping no one found me. I'd even shut my psychic link down completely, but Phoebe practically has a Helga radar or something, because she'd managed to find me.

"Come to drag me back to the party, Pheebs?" I asked.

"Actually, I wanted some shrimp, but you kind of… took it all," she said.

I glanced down at the tray in my lap. "Oh. I guess I kinda did, didn't I. Well, help yourself. I think there's a few still left there…"

She plopped down next to me, perfunctorily selecting one of the grilled crustaceans. "So… Arnold, huh," she prompted. Of course, I'd known she'd been lying when she said she was just here for the shrimp. This was hardly the first time she'd had to treat my emotional wounds, and she knew the procedure. Pretend that she was there for something else, then just bring up the problem in the most casual way she could.

"Yeah… Arnold." I echoed noncommittally.

"So… San Lorenzo, hmmm…"

"Yup. San Lorenzo."

"And in just two weeks, too…"

"That's what that boyfriend of yours said, yeah."

"So… what're you going to do?"

"Well, Pheebs," I said, "I figured I'd hide In this room until he was gone."

"Really," she said incredulously, "You're going to spend an entire fortnight secluding yourself away in Rhonda's guest room."

"Well, _obviously_, I'd come out to eat and use the bathroom, but essentially, yeah, that's the current plan."

"Mmmhmm. I don't buy it."

"Really? Pheeb, you're talking to the queen of avoidance. If there's a way I can _not_ deal with a problem, I'm going to take it."

"Uh-uh. Nope. I don't see it. This isn't about you avoiding dealing with problems. This is about embarrassment."

"Yeah, right. Sure. I made this whole big scene in front of everyone and now I'm sooo scared to face Arnold after it."

"Filtering out the sarcasm from your remark, essentially, yes."

"…I hate that you know me so well, you know that?"

"Noted. You know he'll probably be here to try and talk to you any minute, right?"

"Sure, right, how is he gonna find me? No one ever uses this room."

"There is the fact that you left a trail of shrimp shells all the way here."

There was a knock at the door. "Uh… Helga? Are you in here?"

"Ugh… damn my sloppy eating habits." I sighed. "Come in, hair boy."

"I believe that would be my cue to leave," Phoebe said. "Good luck," she told Arnold as she exited.

"I really was going to tell you right after the party," he began. "I just… wanted to have one last night where neither of us had to worry about the future."

"Yeah, I get that," I admitted. "I guess maybe, if I was in the same position, I would have done the same thing." I slid the tray off my lap. "Guess this is just another case of Psycho Girlfriend flying off the handle again."

"Hey, c'mon," he said. "You're not psycho. You're… passionate. It's what I love about you. And… I guess it scares me a little. But that's what makes it exciting."

"You make it really hard to stay mad at you, Football Head," I said, starting to smile again in spite of myself. "That, and eating an entire pound and a half of shrimp." I burped. "I am gonna pay for this in the morning.

"There is no way you ate a pound and a-" he glanced at the tray, "…okay, maybe you did."

"Why San Lorenzo?" I asked. "Why now?"

"Helpers for Humanity contracted them to help set up a new, more modern hospital down there," he explained, sitting down next to me. "And, well… they've said they're happy living here, but I think the wanderlust is taking hold again. And when you've traveled the world…"

"…Hillwood seems so small, yeah, I get that. But do you _have_ to go with them?"

"This isn't easy for me," he said. "Part of me just wants to stay here with you. But there's also the part of me that spent ten years as an orphan."

"Yeah, yeah…. You're right, Arnold. Nobody should ever have to go through that again. I can't make you stay here with me. I can't do that to you, and I can't do that to your parents either. They've been so good to me, so much better than my own parents sometimes…"

"This isn't forever, you know. My folks figure it'll take about a year to get everything fully running, so, I'll be back for senior year. And in the meantime, we've got e-mail, Skype… there's no reason we can't stay in touch."

"A year is a long time, Arnold, and long-distance relationships are hard. Who knows what'll happen in that time? Maybe you'll be happier there than here… maybe you'll meet some girl who isn't a total high-maintenance emotional train wreck."

"That won't happen."

"Oh, sure it won't. I was there, Arnold. I saw how those Green-Eye girls were looking at you. You're like Jesus to them. Who wouldn't want to date Jesus?"

"Like I don't get enough of that here. Everyone's always going on about how I'm some kind of living incarnation of Buddha, but, let's face it… you've helped more people these past few years than I have." He chuckled. "If anything, I'm the one who should be worried you'll get too much attention."

I laughed. "Oh yeah, everyone's gonna wanna get with _this_ dumpster fire."

He shook his head. "I really wish you weren't so down on yourself all the time. I wish you could see yourself the way I say you."

I sighed. "Whatever. We've had this whole conversation before and it never goes anywhere. I really don't wanna waste the time we have left reliving it."

"Well, that makes two of us." He held out his hand. "Wanna go back to the party?"

"Actually, I kinda don't feel like partying right now. But if you'd like, you can sit here with me while I gaze sadly at the remnants of this tray and regret my life choices." The first of my stomachs groaned to illustrate my point."

"Whatever you say, Helga," he said, putting an arm around me.

Two weeks. Two weeks and I was going to have to say goodbye for who knows exactly how long. Despite my best efforts, that was all I could think about now.

He'd assured me that this wasn't the end, but… out of sight, out of mind, as they say. Would we really be able to hang on to what we had with thousands of miles between us?

* * *

**A.N.: Well, when I said this was going to be like The Patakis with super-powers, I wasn't just taking about everyone being in high school. More then anything, The Patakis is about taking Arnold out of the picture, and seeing how Helga develops as a person without him. That's not to say we've seen the last of him, but for the most part he won't be seen a lot in this series. And while Helga fully intends to stay faithful to him, fate has a way of throwing curve balls, so don't be surprised if romantic complications turn up for her… in addition to the kind of complications a superhero deals with.**

**Jose: Nope, as you can see in this chapter, Inga is working for the Lloyds and has been for some time.**

**Wonko: Thanks, I'm looking forward to writing it!**

**Edit: Oh, I forgot to mention: Rhonda and Nadine's outfits are inspired by lettersandnumbers123's drawing "Rhonda and Nadine at prom" which you can find on their DA page. Sorry I didn't credit them when I first posted this page.**

**Next: "And Just Like That…"**


	3. Parting Gift

**A.N.: This chapter gets a little M-rated toward the end. Fair warning!**

Chapter 2

Parting Gift

_-HELGA-_

So, if you're wondering how the rest of the party went, well, apparently my little blow-up had been all but forgotten due to the fact that Burt had caught Ludwig and Maria making out behind one of the hedges and the two had gotten into a huge fight that ended up with both of them being bodily thrown out of the mansion. After that epic display of macho stupidity, no one could be even remotely bothered to remember my own temper tantrum.

Over the next two weeks, Arnold and I resolved to enjoy each others' company to the best of our ability. The rest of the gang went out of their way to give us all the space we needed, even Gerald, who probably had the most to lose here besides me. Mental note: Be much, much nicer to Gerald from here on in. Rhonda, Phoebe and Lila had volunteered to pick up my slack patrolling at nights, so I'd have the maximum amount of Arnold time.

And yet, even with all this togetherness, I found myself thinking of how soon it would all be over, and all the things we'd be denied this summer… the annual boarding house summer beach trip, giant turkey legs and goofing on the Ren Geeks at the Hillwood Renaissance fair, decorating the tree and hanging stockings for the Fourth of July, driving down to Gravity Falls for their Summerween festivities (can you imagine? The best holiday of the year and there's a town that has an extra one? We _had_ to go!), going to the Humdinga music festival… and that was just the summer… we'd miss going to school together, Regular Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Valentines' Day, the Cheese Festival… the specter of a long, Arnoldless year loomed over my waking thoughts like a big gloomy raincloud over… well, this was the Pacific Northwest, so basically anywhere.

And as the day grew nearer, my depression grew. The more time I spent with him, the more all I could think about was that soon I couldn't spend time with him. I felt myself withdrawing more and more, and guilty over monopolizing his remaining time while it was becoming harder and harder for me to be with him.

I was so worried about losing him, that I was going to lose him anyway. And I couldn't let that happen. And so, as the days counted down to the end, I resolved that I was going to give Arnold the ultimate parting gift.

The day before he was scheduled to leave, I arranged a get-together for the whole gang at Arnold's favorite pizza place… no huge party, just a quiet get-together with the people he was closest with. They deserved the chance to say goodbye to him as much as I did. It was a relaxed affair, reminiscing about old times, pigging out on pizza, Yahoo flowing like soda, not thinking about the future, just living in the present.

As the party drifted to a close, Gerald thumped the table to get everyone's attention. "Friends," he started, "We've all had fun tonight, but let us not forget the reason we're here. To see off your friend and mine, our own, Arnold Shortman. Now, I don't have to tell any of you just how much he's done for each and every one of us. In fact, I'm pretty sure a lot of us would probably be dead without him." *laughter* "Instead, we're going to go around the room and have everyone say why they're thankful that Arnold had been a part of our lives for all these years. First up.. Sid, if you would?"

"Me?"

"Well, you are sitting to my immediate right…"

"Okay," he said. "I, um… well… I think all of us know that I have a tendency to get a little paranoid sometimes."

"If by 'a little' you mean 'very' and by 'sometimes,' you mean, 'you can set your watch to it', then, yeah," I commeneted.

"…anyway, it's probably because Arnold's managed to talk me down every time that I haven't wound up on the evening news yet."

"It's not so bad. Really gets your face out there," Curly interjected.

"Seriously. I almost tried to dive a stake through Stinky's heart that one time, because a bunch of random stuff convinced me that he was a vampire."

"I reckon there ain't no hard feelings on my part. It's a right easy conclusion for you to jump to, on account'a I'M A VAMPIRE! BLAH!"

Sid yelped involuntarily. "Uh…. Good one, you got me. We all know you're not a vampire, 'cause vampires aren't real."

"Oh, they're real," I remarked.

"She's, uh…. She'd kidding, right?" Sid asked nervously (but that's redundant).

"Well, I mean, I haven't met a vampire _personally_, but I know someone who has, and given that I've personally encountered ghosts, gnomes and other creatures, I don't really see much of a reason to doubt her…"

"But there aren't any here, right? _Right_?"

"…moving on… Lila?"

"Well… I think the thing I admire most about Arnold is his ever-so-kind and forgiving nature. I'm sure all of us remember those early days when he was trying to win my attention. And I'm sorry to say I never really gave him a chance, but he never held it against me. I must say I'm happy we remain friends to this very day."

"Reckon I'm next," continued Stinky. "Well… used to be, I thought o' myself as jus' a dumb ol' country hick who weren't no good at nuthin' no how. I was sure I wouldn't ever amount to anythin'. It was Arnold who convinced me that I did have something t be proud of." He blushed. "Sorry, that's all I got. I ain't no fancy public speaker. Al I gots is what's in my heart."

"It's okay, Stinky. It doesn't really matter if it's fancy, just the feeling behind it."

Eugene stood up next. "Everyone knows I'm not the luckiest guy around. But there's one thing I am lucky for… I got to have Arnold as a friend. In fact… he's kind of the reason I'm as positive as I am. There was this one time that someone cave me a crab and it pinched me, which wouldn't have been so bad by itself but a lot of other bad things had happened to me that day. I was on the verge of tears, but he did his best to cheer me up, and he sang this song his grandma taught him about always looking up. From that day on, I always kept that song in my heart, and I've never let anything keep me down since. Hey, let's all sing along! When…"

"No! This is not turning into a musical!" Gerald interrupted. "If we get started, we'll never get finished. Curly, you're up next."

"I thought this was the 'War of Kingdoms' discussion club," the diminutive bespectacled boy quipped. "Honestly, I've never heard of this 'Arnold' guy."

"Thad," Sheena prodded, elbowing him.

"…okay, I guess he talked me down a few of the time when I got crazy, and that's why I'm not in some mental ward right now. So I guess he's all right."

"Um, okay," the tall brunette said shyly. "Well, what I appreciate about Arnold was that he always had time for any cause. You could always count on him to stand up for the little person. Whether it was saving Mighty Pete, equal support for girls' sports, stopping the school board from cutting club support… he's always been there when we needed him."

"Uh… guess I'm up next? Harold said. "Um… well, I used to be this big bully, but Arnold still talked to me and everything and then I became nicer, an' he helped me take care of that kitten and kept me from running away from my Bar Mitzvah and he got me back into school when I got suspended and helped me lose all that weight that one time an'…. Well, he did a whole lot for me 'cause I'm kind of a mess as a person. I… I think that's the cool thing about him. He sees you as just more than the thing everybody sees. Like… you're a person and not just a cartoon stereotype."

Rhonda nodded. "Eloquently put, Harold."

"Yeah, an' I said it good too," Harold replied, beaming.

"That's the great thing about him… he doesn't see the front you put forward, but the best version of who you are. And he can make you see it too. He can make you want to be that best version of you."

"I see Arnold as, above all, a peacemaker," Nadine continued. "When Rhonda and I had our falling out back in fourth grade, he went to extraordinary measures to get us back together. And I know, that's understandable because we're friends and we've known him since preschool, but I've seen him do it for people he didn't know all that well… even people he didn't particularly like, like that time Wolfgang and Edmund got in that he fight a couple of years ago. Even with a guy who used to beat us up on a regular basis, he was willing to put himself on the line."

"In my case, the attribute I most associate with Arnold is his boundless empathy," picked up Phoebe. "He had almost a sixth sense for when someone was in distress. Like last year, when I took on a courseload that was far too strenuous for me. I was headed for a crash, but he was the first to see it. It was he who assured me that I needn't allow myself to be a slave to my drive to be the best. I don't need to go to college two years early." She smiled. "One is more than enough." *laughter*

And so, we'd circled around the table and now, it was my turn. Everyone's eyes were on me, something I absolutely _loved_, she narrated with not even a tiny hint of sarcasm. Now, at this point, Arnold's and my relationship had been out in the open for years. I should have no problem talking about it in front of people who are supposedly my closest friends. Emphasis: _should_. The truth is, though, that even after all these years, I'm really uncomfortable showing warmth in front of other people. Anger, yeah. Sarcasm, sure, any time. But honest, heartfelt emotion? That was my kryptonite… well, apart from the actual rare crystal that can kill me. That's more of a literal kryptonite rather than a metaphorical one.

So, what came out of my mouth at that point was not a heartfelt, articulate summary of why Arnold is my heart's desire, my guiding light, my inspiration, and why his departure was going to feel like ripping off my own arm, and not just one of the extra ones, instead, I delivered this beautiful nugget:

"Um… well, you know… it's all that stuff you guys already said, so, I guess I agree with all of that too… so, really, I guess I don't have much more to add to that…"

"Really?" Gerald asked. "Are you sure you don't have _anything else_ you want to add to that?"

"No, _Geraldo_, I don't have anything to add to that. Honestly, you're all going on like this is some kind of goddamned funeral eulogy, and he's not _dead_, he's just… leaving. And he's still going to be around, it just won't be _here_, with _us_ lunatics, He'll be away. Not here. Not with us. Not with me."

Arnold looked at me. "Helga… you don't have to talk if you don't…"

"I'm not ready to let you go, okay? Everybody's already saying goodbye, but… I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want things to end. If I start going on and on about how important you are to me and how much everything's going to be different without you, I'm acknowledging that it's all over and I don't want to do that, I want everything to stay like it is now, I…" Great. Exactly what I didn't want to happen is happening and I'm breaking down into a sobbing rambling mess in front of everyone. And now they're all staring at me and everything is awkwardly silent.

"W-what are you all staring at?" I asked, trying to compose myself, as Phoebe surreptitiously handed me some napkins to wipe my eyes…. thank goodness I hadn't reached the snot-dripping ugly-cry phase…. "This is a party. We're supposed to be happy. Everyone go back to being happy." I pushed my seat away from the table and ran out. Once out, I made my way to an alley, where I opened several flaps in my shirt and jacket, kicked off my shoes, and let the real me out, then launched myself into the air. I needed time to clear my mind, and up there, with no distractions, I could. For about an hour, I drifted above the city, ignoring my phone's incessant ringing. Probably him, realizing what I'd done and trying to reach me. I put it out of my mind. I'd had plans, but the outburst back at the pizza place had blunted my courage to go through with it.

But I still _wanted _it. If I was absolutely going to have to say goodbye to him, no matter how much I didn't want to do it… I was going to have to give Arnold the one thing he needed most of all.

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

"You are gonna go after her, right?" Gerald prompted.

I paused. My first impulse was always to go to her, but I didn't want to just ditch everyone. "You're all okay with that, right?"

"Go," Phoebe prompted. "Nobody here is going to hold it against you."

"If everyone's okay-"

"Arnold!" Rhonda cut me off. "You're always so worried about everyone. It's okay to think about what _you_ want for once. Now go. We're FINE."

"Thanks, I said, running after her.

By the time I got out of the pizzeria, I could see no trace of her. I hadn't been that far behind… I should have at least been able to see her.

Unless… she went in the one direction I absolutely couldn't follow her. Up.

I got out my cel and dialed her. No answer. Not at all unexpected given her mood. Truth told… I was kind of used to getting these cold-shoulder tactics from her. Just par for the course for dating a girl with such mercurial emotions. She would always come around though… the problem was, this time, I'd be gone tomorrow.

I probably looked desperate, but I called a bunch more times, leaving a series of increasingly ridiculous-sounding messages. Finally, after about an hour, I gave up. I called Gerald to let him know I hadn't been able to find her, and he assured me that nobody had minded I'd gone after her for a second time, and that there was no point coming back to the party since everyone had left anyway.

Dejected, a hopped a bus back home. Once I got there, I could try Helga again.

I opened the door to a loud "SURPRISE!"

"What the-?" I should have expected this. The guys from school weren't the only ones who were going to want to say goodbye to me. "Uh, guys… you didn't have to do all this for me…"

"Nonsense, short man! Didja think were were just gonna let you leave without sendin' you off in style?"

"Over there! Over there!" sang Grandma, dressed in a World War I uniform, marching in place and waving a baton in time to the song, "Send the word, send the word, over there, that the Yanks are comin', the Yanks are comin', the drums rum-tummin' everywhere!"

"Really… I appreciate this, but I just got back from a going-away party, and I'm not really up to another one, so if I could just-"

"Uh-uh, Arnold, you ain't getting' away that easy," Ernie said, revving a chainsaw. "Now let's cut that cake!"

"Stop! Just use a knife, you crazy, crazy man!" scolded Mr. Hyunh.

"Friends, if Arnold is too tired, he is too tired," Oskar interjected. "He doesn't have to stay up if he doesn't want to. I'll be a good friend and eat his piece of the cake for him. Eh heh heh heh."

"Oh, no you ain't goin' near his piece, Kakoshka!" Ernie snapped, turning himself, and his improvised cake-cutting tool, toward him.

"Help, help!" Oskar whined. "A crazy man is attacking me with a chainsaw! It is like that horror movie with the guy in the hockey mask! Someone call the police!"

I attempted to back away from the madness, only to back into my parents. "Sorry, son," Dad said sympathetically. "They got us too. It's best to let them just have their way, believe me."

"It's more for them than for us, anyway," Mom added. "Just go with it. It'll be over soon."

Over soon, it was not. The party went on for what seemed like forever, with Grandma, Grandpa, and all the boarders sharing their own stories (I'm pretty sure Grandma's was made up, as I'm fairly sure I never conducted a daring raid on a saboteur's base in wartime Belgium). Finally, after a couple of hours, I felt my phone go off. It was a text from Helga. _Finally, _I thought. _Maybe she's feeling better and we can talk about this. _I opened the text.

_PinkBow: Hey, Football-Head. Come upstairs. I'm ready to give you your going-away present [birthday cake emoji] [gift box emoji]._

"Uh, excuse me," I said, "do you mind? I need to go upstairs for a minute."

"Nature callin', eh, short man? Runs n the family. Well, go on ahead. This party's gin' 'til question marks!"

Permission achieved, I ran upstairs and opened the door to my room, wondering just exactly what I'd find My mind raced. It could be could be... what I'd been dreaming of.

Well, it was Helga. I expected that.

What I didn't expect was just her laying there on her side, dressed in that bikini Leia wore in Return of the Jedi, wing draped over her upper body coyly, concealing her upper chest, tail swishing invitingly, a seductive gave adorning her face. Like some medieval artist's depiction of the mythical succubus, right down to the horns. A saint's temptation incarnate. And public opinion aside, I am most definitely no saint.

"So, Football-Head," she purred. "Do you like your gift? Go on. Unwrap it."

* * *

**A.N.: Well, that escalated quickly! Talk about a hell of a parting gift! So… will Arnold and Helga go all the way? Find out next chapter!**

"**Over There" lyrics courtesy of the late George M. Cohan.**

**Jose: We'll see just how Arnold and Helga handle a long-distance relationship in the coming chapters.**

**Next: Ready or Not**


	4. Ready or Not

Chapter 3

Ready or Not

_-ARNOLD-_

"Well, Arnold? Aren't you going to unwrap your goodbye present?"

I strained for something witty to say, but nothing was coming out. For, you see, Helga's "goodbye present" was herself, dressed _very_ sparsely, lying on my bed. And my teenage boy brain was literally in the process of melting down.

"You, uh… kinda look unwrapped already," I stammered, voice breaking a lot more that I wanted.

"Not entirely," she said. "There's still this pesky bikini. I do believe it's cutting off my vitamin D absorption. Perhaps you could remove it?"

"…oh… wow…." I stuttered, wiping the sweat off my brow. "I, um… you're not using your powers, are you?"

"Uh uh," she said with a smirk. "That's all you, baby." She shifted to a sitting position, her upper pair of hands reaching for my shirt and her lowers to undo my belt. "You'll cool off once we get rid of all these clothes…"

I staggered back a bit. This was happening. It was real and it was happening. I'd dreamed about it countless times (well, _obviously_, I'm a guy and I'm fifteen). Sometimes she was human, sometimes she was in her mutant form, in still others she was a mermaid or a centaur or some other fantastical being, but always waiting for me, beckoning me forward to claim her, and I always obliged (of course, I would wake up before anything actually happened, and sometimes certain… embarrassing things would happen, but I'd been assured that was normal. But now… she was here, she was real, and she was practically giving herself away to me. My dream, literally, was coming true.

So why was I backing away?

"Uh… I… uh… are we sure…. I mean… we're both so young…"

"Oh please, you know you want this. Let's get those clothes off." Her upper slowly drifted toward shirt's buttons. "And we'll see if that last name of yours is ironic or what. " Her lowers drifted down to my fly and I could feel my blood pressure beginning to rise. "What do you say, Arnold… Arnold… Arnold… HEY ARNOLD!"

And just like that, I suddenly felt myself snap back to reality.

Two things were true. I _was_ still in my room, and she _was_ still there. But she was back in her human form, and fully clothed, and sitting in a perfectly non-seductive way. It had all been in my head.

She cocked her head, staring at me quizzically. "Back with us, Football-Head? Where was it this time, the jungle? Underwater? Maybe some kind of desert expedition?"

"Um… yeah, that last one," I sad, hoping I wasn't too transparently lying. "So, uh… you texted me that you had some kind of going-away present for me?"

"Yeah, um…" She rubbed the back of her head. "Look, I've been thinking a lot about this the last couple of weeks. We've been spending a lot of time together, which was great, but also… not."

"How is that not great?" I asked, confused.

"Well, I mean… I love being with you, but I was monopolizing all your time. Time that you didn't have a lot of, and you had so many people who deserved a part of it. Face it… I put up this whole tough-girl attitude, but underneath that, I'm clingy and dependent. You know what I was originally planning to do? I was gonna do this whole clumsy seduction routine where I show up in here naked and coax you to have sex with me in the hope that it'll force us to keep this relationship going." She chuckled sardonically. "Talk about messed up and desperate, huh? That would've been awful. Our first time shouldn't be like that."

"Yeah," I said, blushing, embarrassed that that scenario had been exactly what I'd pictured.. "That would have been terrible. Neither of us would have been ready for that."

"Heh. I know, right? The fact that I'd even think of it just speaks of deep unresolved dependency issues. Thank goodness I came to my senses."

Truth is, she was right. We weren't ready, and it was just my teenage hormones and overactive imagination that had ever made me think that I wanted it. And while those parts of me were disappointed, I knew that it was a good thing that it hadn't been real.

But _boy _were those parts of me _real_ disappointed.

I sat down beside her. "So… what are you giving me?"

"Well… I was thinking originally some kind of flashy symbolic gift like a gold compass 'so you'll always find your way back home' or some such stupid cheesy crap like that, but, ugh, just no. That and you could just use the one on your phone anyway."

"That's true. Plus a gold compass would be expensive."

"And possibly lead to other dimensions with cowboys in airships and talking warrior bears. Actually, that all sounds awesome Why the hell didn't I get one of those? But, I digress. Arnold… what I want to give you is…. your freedom."

I blinked stupidly. "My what?"

Helga took a deep breath, placing her hand on mine. "Arnold… I think we should break up."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm clingy and needy, and I think I need to learn how to not be clingy and needy. Arnold, I love you, and I always will love you, but there are things abut what I'm like with you that I _don't_ love. I…" She took a deep breath. "I think being apart for a year will be good for us. It'll give us some perspective."

"But why? Why can't we just stay together? I'm sure we can just make this work…"

"Not the way I am. I'd just spend all my time obsessing about you and worrying that maybe some other girl is getting her hooks into you and next thing you know, I'm blowing off school and jumping the next flight to San Lorenzo, because in your last e-mail you mentioned that you made a new friend who happens to be female and I'm a jealous psycho idiot who can't let you have that!"

"You're not-"

"It drives me crazy when you even _look_ at another girl, let alone talk to someone! That's the truth, and as much as you don't want to acknowledge it, it's going to damage us in the long run if I don't get a handle on it. I… I think we need this. I think _I_ need this."

"I-is this really what you want?" I asked.

"That's the thing… there's a difference between wanting and needing. Of course I don't _want_ to let you go… but I need to. And I _need_ you, but… what I really need is to _not_ need you. Because that makes me needy. I want to… want you. Not need you. Do… do you get what I'm trying to say, Arnold?"

"To be honest… I think I'm almost there, but not quite."

"Okay, let's see if I can explain it a bit better… I've been in love with you since I was four. That is over three-quarters of my existence on this planet. Do you think a four-year-old has any real understanding of love? You were the first person who I have any memory of showing me any real kindness, and I basically imprinted on you like a damn puppy dog."

"Yeah, but… you've grown since then."

"Yeah, I have grown. When I was a little kid, I never even questioned whether what I had was love or just obsession, I just let it drive me. It's only now that I've begun to question things." She squeezed my hand, sending that little shiver down my arm that it always did. "I was going to throw myself at you I some crazy bid to "lock" you into this relationship… maybe even get you to question if you shouldn't just stay here with me instead of spending time with the parents who were gone for so much of your life and going out to experience this world. You know how much I dream of travelling, how could I deny you something like that?"

"Can I admit something to you, Helga?"

"Knock yourself out, Arnoldo. I have kind of been monopolizing the conversation here."

"A part of me was kind of hoping you were going to do something like that."

"Whoa, no kidding."

"Yeah… I'm not the saint everyone makes me out to be. In fact… when you texted me, I kinda slipped into a daydream about you doing exactly that."

"Did you now," she teased. "And what was that like?"

"You were in your mutant form and wearing the Leia bikini."

"Interesting choice," she said, smirking. "You clearly have exotic tastes."

"Maybe I should tell you about the dream where you were a giant spider from the waist down." I chuckled. "I might have some issues of my own I need to work out."

"Apparently I don't have _enough_ limbs," she joked. "It would be so much easier, wouldn't it?" she mused. "You staying here with your grandparents, nothing changing, Everything just going on the way it's been."

"Yeah… it would. I could still talk to my parents, convince them to let me stay here-"

"And then what? What if we get accepted to different colleges? What then? Sooner or later, we… and by that I mostly mean me… are going to have to learn to deal with separation. And that's why I think what we both need is a clean break. Not putting this off for another two years, none of this 'long distance relationship' limbo garbage. Just… cutting it off. Living without each other."

"If you're really sure this is what you want…"

"I'm sure it's what I need to grow as a… person… oh my god, this is me becoming mature, isn't it." She fell back on the bed, groaning. "Aggggghhh! I hate this! Why do I have to grow up and be a mature responsible individual?"

"Would you rather be like Oskar?" I teased, putting a hand on her leg.

She swatted it away. "Oh, don't even joke about that." She sat up. "Don't ever joke about that."

"Seriously, though," I said, "I think the fact that you would even think about this sort of thing shows that you were never as clingy and obsessive as you thought you were."

"Oh, I dunno…. I've done some pretty nasty things to people I thought you were interested in. Just ask Ruth and Lila and that one blonde chick whose name I can never remember and- well, I never did get around to slipping that laxative into Maria's lunch, but I was thinking about it…"

"You were nine then. I think this proves that you've grown a lot."

"*sigh* I know, it suuuuuuucks." She swatted me with a pillow. "Even now part of me is screaming 'let's just run off and get marred!'"

I laughed. "I'm not even 16 yet."

"There's still a few states that would let us do it. I mean, we could be on a bus to Kansas like *snap* that."

I shrugged. "I don't remember that working out all that well for Romeo and Juliet."

"To be honest, I don't remember much about that play past that kiss. I wanna say… they live happly ever after and start a small bed-and-breakfast in Moderna?"

"Sure, let's just go with that. So, uh… I guess this is it, huh."

"Well, tomorrow it is. Until your plane leaves, we are still technically boyfriend and girlfriend."

"In that case, would you like to come downstairs? There's a going-away party going on, and I'm pretty sure my folks would like to say goodbye to you. It is kind of thanks to you they're here, after all."

"Are you so sure about that? I _am_ the one giving you R-rated daydreams…"

"It's not like we have to describe them in great detail. Besides, they're biologists. They probably expect me to have them."

"Maybe, but they're also parents, and parents just can't deal with that kind of thing logically. I swear Bob still thinks I'm 12. If I told him you were fantasizing about me like that, he'd probably run you over with the hummer."

"Yikes. Lets not, then."

"Well, duh, I like you the way you are…. Living." She took my hand. "C'mon, let's go say goodbye to you."

* * *

_Groening International Airport, the next day_

_-HELGA-_

Well, this was it. Ready or not, in less than half an hour, Arnold would be getting on a plane and out of my life for a year.

Phil and Gertie had let me tag along in the Packard to say one last goodbye to Arnold and his parents. And so, here we were in the waiting area while they waited for the boarding call, sipping our overpriced airport Moonpenny's lattes and trying to find the perfect words to say, but failing and just engaging in small talk.

Finally, the call came to board. "Well, I guess this is it," he said, getting up.

"Yeah, ready, or not, here you go…" I said. "You… are okay with this, right? Me ending it?"

"I really don't see it as an ending," he said. "More like… hitting pause."

"A year is a long time," I reminded him. "And there are a lot of pretty girls out there."

"Yeah, but none of them are _you_, though. There's no way I'd ever find a replacement who can compete with you."

"Oh, I'm sure they have plenty of mental hospitals down there," I joked. "You know, running off to Kansas is still on the table. But, no, wat, then we'd have to be in _Kansas_… no, no, this is better."

He laughed back. "Seriously, we don't have to be strangers, right? We can write, and Skype, and I'll probably come visit for Christmas at least, so, y'know, we won't entirely be strangers…"

"Well, _duh_, Football-Head, I don't wanna _entirely_ cut you out of my life… I just think time apart'll help us." I hugged him. "Take care of yourself, Arnoldo. Don't go getting yourself captured by river pirates."

"You too," he said, hugging back. "Don't go getting abducted by aliens."

"Our lives are sooooo messed up," I responded. We shared one last, kiss. "Goodbye."

I watched him and his parents board the plane, and continued to watch as the plane took off into the distance. I continued to continue to watch until the tiny speck that represented it finally vanished from sight.

"AGGGH! I broke up with him! What was I THINKING?"

* * *

**A.N.: Yep, bait and switch! Sorry, but I don't really feel comfortable writing underage sex. One day, they will be ready. This is not that day.**

**Jose: Still think it's the perfect gift?**

**Querpyblah: No lemons, sorry. Maybe someday. When they're older. Not now. As for Arnold leaving, I actually think that was a very important factor in why I wanted to see The Patakis. I wanted to see Helga learning to live without him, and how she develops as a person without being driven by her obsession. That's a big part of why I'm writing this.**

**Next: Actually, I've really been neglecting "Hey Miraculous!" (mostly because it feels like nobody's actually reading it), but I really should do a chapter of that. Afterwards, though, we'll be picking up on Helga's first day of single life, in "Moving On".**


	5. Ripping the Band-Aid Off

Chapter 4

Ripping the Band-Aid Off

_-HELGA-_

So. I broke up with Arnold.

I. Broke Up. With Arnold.

I broke up.

With Arnold.

No matter how many times I repeated those words to myself, they just didn't seem to make any sense. I could just say them in whatever random order I chose and they'd be just as intelligible to me. Broke Arnold with up I. With broke I up Arnold. I broke up with Arnold. See? All gibberish to me.

It was for the greater good, I had told myself. This is something you needed to do, I told myself. You don't need Arnold, I told myself.

Myself was having none of that. Myself felt like I had just reached inside of me and yanked out all of my vital organs, leaving me an empty shell of a person. Empty shells have no use for logic and reason.

Once the realization had hit me that I really had done the unthinkable and he really had left and he really was gone from my life, the next sequence of events seemed to play out as f I was binge-watching a season of my own life, and not intently, just sort of having it on in the background while I was doing other things, so that I got the general sense of what was going on but if you asked me to give you details I'd be drawing a blank.

What I can definitely tell you was that at some point I left the airport with Phil and Pookie, who gave me a ride back to the apartment I shared with my mom (we moved out of the boarding house a couple of years ago; just as well, I mean, this was going to be excruciating enough without having be reminded of him every day due to living in his damn house); I let myself in, grabbed some random edible thing from the fridge and stared at it for a bit before putting it back; I dragged myself to my room, opened my latest notebook, grabbed my trusty purple pen, and wrote absolutely nothing for an hour, checked my phone, saw texts from a bunch of people, ignored them, changed out of my human form, not really bothering to change into my hero uniform, flew to the dump, rammed my fists into the wreckage of a '91 Taurus until my knuckles were sore while I let out a shriek that banshees would envy, flew home, flopped into bed, and shut off.

Yeah… this should do nicely for the next month.

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

I knew something was wrong when Helga didn't respond to the first three texts after Arnold's departure. I knew something was _really_ wrong when she replied to my fourth, two days later, with "Helga go bye-bye".

When she'd told me three nights ago that she had decided to break it off with Arnold for the duration of his expatriacy, she had seemed to be in a positive frame of mind. I suspected at the time that she may have been putting up a front, but I was willing to let it slide at the time because I was so proud of her mature outlook. I probably should have guessed that once Arnold's departure became a reality, things would be different.

In any case, I expected a bit of cellular silence post-breakup, but almost two full days followed by that cryptic text concerned me. I contacted the other girls to see if they'd gotten similar responses to their overtures; Rhonda had simply gotten a middle-finger emoji and the rest, nothing.

I resolved, then, that as the only one to receive more than a single-symbol reply, it was my duty to determine exactly what Helga's emotional state was and what, if anything, could be done to remedy it.

I departed for Helga's early in the morning, before Miriam had left for the day. When I arrived, Miriam looked at me as if someone had thrown her a life preserver. "Oh, thank goodness," she said. "Maybe you can shake her out of that funk she's in."

"She's really out of it, then?"

"I know losing that boyfriend of hers must have been rough on her, but it's like all the life just drained out of her. I can't bear to see her just… lying around moping all day. Hits a little too close to home."

Well, hat went without saying, didn't it. I headed down the hall and attempted to open the door, but she'd locked it. I gave a light knock. "Helga? It's Phoebe. Are you awake?"

"Maybe," came the reply. "s'kinda hard to tell anymore."

"Can… I talk to you?"

"It's a free country. C'mon in."

"I would but… the door is locked."

"Oh. Yeah. So it is."

I waited. "Are… you going to _un_lock it?" I finally asked after some time had passed.

"*sigh* Might as well, since you can't seem to take a hint…" she groaned. The sounds of reluctant footsteps slowly approached the door, then the sound of a lock being opened, as the door slowly swung open to reveal a disheveled, t-shirt-and-sweatpants-clad Helga regarding me with dead eyes. I winced at the scent of two days' worth of collected musk.

"Phew," I said. "You haven't showered at all, have you?"

She shrugged. "What's the point? I'm just gonna stink again. Not like I got anyone to smell good for, anyway."

"_I_ can still smell you!" I corrected.

"You can handle it," she replied dismissively. "And I'm not planning on going anywhere, so it's not like anyone else is gonna have to put up with it."

"And how long do you plan on staying here?"

"Mmm… I was thinking… forever."

My eyes widened. "Forever? That's impossible!"

"Yeah, you're probably right. They'll probably force me to go back to school in the fall, but until then, I'm staying right here."

"The whole summer?"

"Yup. Just gonna lie here, doing jack squat, basting in my own juices. Seems like a good use of my time."

"Oh, come on! What about our summer plans? What about the fair? The music festival? Summerween? I think Rhonda even has some big beach trip planned for the gang."

"Oh, right… all the things I was planning to do with Arnold. There won't be any painful reminders there, no sirree. Nope… I think I'm just gonna spend the summer right here in my bed."

"You don't mean that." I protested.

She flopped back down on it. "Watch me. I mean… what's stopping me? Don't have a job. Don't need a job. Got everything I need right here."

"What about Temper?"

"What about her? Does this city really need _four_ superheroes?"

* * *

On his floating barge headquarters, Monkeyman suddenly stirred.

"Somehow, I feel as if I've been – Monkeyman – insulted," he said to no one.

* * *

"I'm sure the rest of you girls can pick up the slack."

"No," I said. "I refuse to let you remain here, wallowing in your own funk, both emotional _and_ olfactory!" I declared. "I swear, I shall find a way to drag you out of here, even if it has to be kicking and screaming!" I turned on my heels and strode out, a plan already in the opening stages of formation."

"'Kay, good luck with that, Helga replied apathetically, waving me off.

Upon leaving the house, the first thing I dd was send out a mass text

_Emergency meeting, _it said. _My place. One hour._

* * *

And so, once the allotted time had passed, Rhonda, Nadine, Sheena, Lila, Patty, Rani, and I were all assembled in my living room.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I called you all here today," I began.

"Helga?" asked Lila.

"_Obviously_ Helga," replied Rhonda, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, it's clearly something to do with Helga," agreed Sheena.

"…well, yes," I admitted. "I didn't expect you to guess it so fast. I had this entire preamble prepared explaining the whole thing."

"Well, she's the only one not here," pointed out Patty. "Who else is it going to be?"

"She's not the only one not here," I replied, a bit disappointed I wouldn't get to do my entire introduction. "I didn't invite Gloria."

"Because we all hate her," Rani replied. "Lousy boyfriend-stealing little shit," she muttered under her breath.

"Hey. Stinky's loss," Nadine assured. "You're too good for him."

"Is that what this meeting's about? Are we plotting to humiliate Gloria? I want a piece of that action," asked Rani hopefully.

"Later. Right now, we need to discuss Helga."

"Yes," agreed Rani. "She's the best at thinking up revenge plots. We need her."

"…that brings us to why I called us together," I continued. "I went over to see her this morning, and she's taking the breakup very badly."

"Breakup?" asked Lila confusedly. "What break-up?"

"You know… the break-up with Arnold?" I asked incredulously. They all responded with blank expressions. "Seriously, am I the only one she told about it?"

"Arnold broke up with her?" Rhonda replied, appalled. "How _could_ he? I can't believe he would be the kind of person who would simply do that to someone. You think you know a guy…"

"No, no," I corrected, "Helga was the one who broke up with Arnold. Apparently she didn't want to trap him in a long-distance relationship because she felt she was becoming too codependent…" I shook my head. "She seemed so positive when se told me, but when I talked to her this morning, it was as if she was a hollow shell of herself."

"Well, really, it sounds like something she just needs to work through on her own," Rhonda reasoned. "I'm not sure you needed to call the whole girl posse together for that."

I had foreseen someone raising this sort of objection. Fortunately, I knew exactly how to sway Rhonda. "She was wearing… sweat pants."

"Oh, the poor dear!" she gasped. "Clearly, she is hurting _deeply_! Something _must_ be done!"

"And that's why we are here. What we need to do is show Helga there is more to who she is than just her lifelong obsession with Arnold.

"I assume you have a plan?" Nadine asked.

Did I have a plan. Please. Smirking, I opened my PearBook.

"Oh, shock of shocks, she's got a slideshow," snarked Rani. "When did you even have time to put _that_ together?"

"There's always time to be organized," I informed her. Now then…"

* * *

_-HELGA-_

So, so far, today, I'd gone nowhere, and done nothing. All in all, a blissfully unproductive day, with many more to look forward to. This being a hollow husk of a person was easier than I'd thought.

I hadn't spent the entire day in bed, of course. In the early afternoon, I'd gotten thirsty, so I dragged my carcass downstairs to drink something. Mom had left half a pitcher of (virgin, of course), strawberry-banana smoothie in the fridge. The sweet taste and smooth texture actually did help my mood for a little bit, and I returned to my room determined to actually accomplish something. Maybe I'd finally be able to write something.

That determination evaporated the second I picked up my pen and notebook and the words that I had hoped to create just would not come no matter how hard I tried to find them. Dejected, I cast aside the impotent instruments of creation and sank back into bed, distracting myself with online cat videos. Is there any better way to waste your life than watching cat videos? I haven't found one.

I don't know how long, nor particularly care for that matter, how long I laid there, but eventually nature called. Now, I'm far gone… but I'm not that far gone. Grudgingly, I picked myself up and began the wearing trudge to the bathroom.

* * *

_PHOEBE: I've known Helga a very long time, and during that time, I've come to notice some things… one among them being that her bladder is extremely predictable. Every day, at precisely 5:17 PM, she goes to the bathroom. That is our window of opportunity. Now, the first thing we need to do is secure her._

_SHEENA: Wait… secure her? Just what are we doing?_

_PHOEBE: Oh, I thought I mentioned that already. This is going to be an old-fashioned friend kidnapping._

_LILA: This… seems like ever-so-bad an idea._

* * *

When I opened the door, the last thing I'd expected to see was Phoebe standing there.

"Criminy, Pheebs, I thought I told you that I'm committed to this whole wallowing thi-"

"I'm very sorry about this, but it's for your own good," she interrupted, raising her fists. For the first time, I noticed she was wearing a pair of her costume gauntlets. The ones that fires restraining straps.

"Pheebs, what the hell are-"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry!" she tearfully apologized as she launched a pair of restrainer straps that wrapped tightly around me. "Okay, now!" Suddenly, Rhonda and Lila rushed in carrying a huge sack.

"Oh, no," I protested. "There is _no way_ you're doing what I think you're doing."

* * *

_PHOEBE: Usually, I use my magnetic abilities to control my restrainer straps, but they can be pre-programmed to do simple things like constrict. In any case, they should immobilize Helga long enough for Rhonda and Lila to run in and throw the sack over her head._

_LILA: Wait, why am I doing that?_

_PHOEBE: Because you and Rhonda are physically the strongest of us with the exception of Patty, who will be needed to drive the getaway vehicle. Now, once Helga is properly secured, we three will carry her downstairs, where Patty will be waiting…_

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

"I _can't believe_ you're doing what I thought you were going to do!" yelled Helga, writhing violently in our grasp, her voice barely muffled by the burlap sack we were carrying her in. "When I get out of here, I swear to every demon in hell that I will make you all suffer!"

"Gosh, she sounds just like her old self already!" suggested Lila. "Perhaps this isn't necessary after all? Maybe we can just… let her go now?"

"Are you _crazy_?" Rhonda retorted. "We let her out now, she'll kill us!"

"Oh, I'm certain she wouldn't _kill_ us…"

"Well… she wouldn't kill _me_… probably," I reasoned. "You, I'm not so sure. Rhonda's borderline. She might let her off with a maiming." I was joking, of course. Mostly.

They'd regenerate any limbs Helga tore off anyway.

The three of us carried the struggling Helga to the getaway vehicle (okay, actually it's just Patty's parents' catering van, but it has wheels, a motor and storage space, so it would do). The other two girls took Helga into the back while I slipped into the shotgun seat next to Patty. "Gun it," I demanded.

"Where exactly are we going, anyway?"

"Mighty Pete. The others are waiting for us there. Sorry to drag you into this, but you _are_ the only one of us that has both a license and a vehicle."

"It's fine," she said calmly. "I always did love heist movies. This is my chance to live one. Lucky my parents are away and left me the keys. So, uh… have you thought about what you're going to do when we have to let her out?"

"Of course I have," I said. "We're following up this old-fashioned friend kidnapping with an old-fashioned friend intervention."

* * *

**A.N.: Sorry about these short chapters, but it's been a while since I posted an update to this story and this felt like a good point to cut off. **

**Jose: The SHAZAM reference was unintentional. It was actually a **_**His Dark Materials**_** reference.**

**Next: Intervention.**


	6. Intervention

Chapter 5

Intervention

_-HELGA-_

So, here's the situation. I'm having myself a perfectly good wallow and Phoebe just _can't_ respect that, so she goes and has me kidnapped.

This is the life I lead. I get up to use the bathroom and get ambushed by my best friend, my emergency-backup best friend and my person I've kinda learned to tolerate, tied up with magnetic straps, stuffed in a sack and schlepped downstairs. Then I get thrown in what I assume is the back of a van. It feels kind of cold… refrigerated? Did they rope the Jolly Olly Man into this? No, that'd be much colder. Maybe a catering van? Patty's folks are caterers, did they drag her into this whole scheme? I have to say… I'm actually kind of impressed Phoebe came up with all this. Oh, I'm pissed, don't get me wrong, but she's got my grudging respect.

Being that I was all strapped up and sacked, I really ad nothing to do but wait and see how it all played out. But that didn't mean I couldn't scare them a little.

"You realize the second I get out of this I'm going to kill you, right?"

"I knew this was a terrible idea," Lila whimpered.

"This is for her own good, remember," Rhonda replied. "Show some conviction."

"Surely we could have done this without committing a felony, though?"

"Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I heard _that_," I said.

"It's not really a felony… wait, is it?" Rhonda seemed to be rethinking her own commitment to the scheme. "Can we get arrested for this? Am I going to have to explain this to at my college interview?"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "You probably won't live that long." I heard Lila let out a squeak in response.

The van slowly pulled to a stop and I heard the doors open. "All right, we're here," I heard Phoebe say.

"I'm suddenly realizing this was not the best idea," Rhonda replied nervously.

"Suck it up, Lloyd!" Phoebe snapped. "We're in too deep to back out now! Now grab her legs and help me get her into the dumbwaiter!"

The dumbwaiter? Were we at the treehouse? We haven't used that thing since the sixth grade! Jut what was this plan all about, anyway?

I felt myself hoisted unceremoniously and placed in what I assume was the dumbwaiter's basket. My assumption was confirmed by the sensation of my berth being hoisted upward.

"They actually went and did it," I heard Rani say. Just how many people were in on this?

"Help me get her into the chair," Nadine told her. Her participation at least made sense; as Rhonda's girlfriend she was kind of at best-friend-in-law status like Gerald, though I got along with her a bit better.

Once seated, I felt the sack finally lifted off me. I squinted at the assault of the sunlight streaming in through the treehouse's windows. Spending nearly two days in a dark room'll do that to you, I guess. When my vision cleared up, I could see Nadine, Sheena, Rani, Lila, Phoebe, Rhonda and Patty surrounding me, their faces a mixture of concern and nervousness.

"Phew… you weren't kidding. She reeks," commented Rani.

"Thanks," I said. "I'm really glad you decided to share that with me."

"Are you sure we really needed to do this?" Rani asked, turning back to Pheobe. "She seems like her usual surly self to me."

"_Why_ are you part of my friend group again?" I asked. I really, really didn't hang out much with Rani at all. She was more Rhonda and Lila's friend than mine. Phoebe probably figured she needed to fill out this intervention or whatever it was with some extra bodies.

"Shh," Phoebe interrupted. "Helga… you know I wouldn't have gone to such lengths if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary, but I found your behavior this morning extremely disturbing. I know Arnold's departure has been difficult for you, but to see you regress to such a passive, listless state was very distressing to me. I knew drastic measures had to be taken to remind you just who it is you are, and if that meant having to anger you… well, that anger is very much a part of Helga Pataki."

"Well, you did piss me off, I'll give you that," I said. "For a while, anyway." The initial rush of rage was cooling and rushing in to replace it was the dulling sense of ennui that had been overwhelming me since Arnold's departure had finally sunk in. "But I'm kinda not feeling it any more."

"Oh, come on!" Rhonda retorted. "We frickin' kidnapped you! Doesn't that annoy you?"

"….eh," I said. "Really, you guys are better off with me like this. No need to tiptoe around my hair-trigger temper all the time." I glanced around.

"While it's true you have something of a… short fuse," Phoebe replied evenly, "it's that very fire within you that makes you the person we all love and respect."

"Mostly respect," Rani interjected. Criminy, I think this is the most she's said to me all year.

"Helga's right," Sheena added. There's more to you than just anger… there's determination and courage. That's why we're starting here, at Mighty Pete. Remember that time you stood up with us against your father to save this tree?"

"I only did that to piss off my dad," I protested,

"That was your excuse at the time, yes," Phoebe commented. "But I suspect the truth was quite different."

She was right, I had to admit. That _had_ just been an excuse; the truth was, something in me wanted to do something right… not even for Arnold, but because it was the right thing to do. "I guess that was a pretty good day." I paused. "Wait, you said we're starting here? There's _more_ of this?"

"Well, yeah… this is just step one on the whole 'Helga is actually pretty awesome' tour." Rhonda said. "We've got a bunch more to go."

I sighed. "And you're not gonna let me go until we're done with it, are you?"

"'Fraid not," Nadine said, grinning.

"…fine, let's just get it over with. Can I at least use the bathroom before we move on to the next stop?" I was really lucky this place had indoor plumbing.

"That seems reasonable," Phoebe said, releasing my restraints. Thank god for that… being tied to a chair was giving me bad flashbacks to the time Nick Vermicelli kidnapped me a few years back..

"Take a shower, too," Rhonda added, handing over a shopping bag. "We too the liberty of bringing a change of clothes."

"How thoughtful," I said semi-sarcastically.

"Please, as if I'd let my friend be seen in public in sweatpants."

* * *

It's really remarkable the difference a shower makes. Just feeling less gross was a huge improvement in my mood; granted, that still didn't mean I was feeling good, but at least I felt somewhat like a person now, clean, hair washed, in clothing that wasn't housing bacteria colonies on the verge of developing sentience. Honestly, I could just leave and go back home now, but the girls were pretty determined to force me to go on this tour of theirs, so I might as well see where it takes me.

Our first stop wasn't far from Mighty Pete, a seemingly nondescript brownstone on Vine Street. "Okay," I asked, "what exactly should I be looking at here?"

Phoebe cleared her throat. "Okay, Nadine, this is your part of the presentation. Go ahead."

"You actually wrote a whole script for this thing, didn't you." I remarked.

"There's no shame in being organized," she replied, a bit snippily. "Nadine, continue."

Nadine took a deep breath, unused to speaking on any subject that didn't involve way too many legs. "I'd like to call everyone's attention to the plaque on the side of this building. 'July 24, 1847. On this date, this spot was the location of what came to be known as the Tomato Incident, an important event in the foundation of what would eventually become the Oregon Territory.' Six years ago, this neighborhood was targeted for demolition to make way for FutureTech industries' mega-mall. Arnold and Gerald set off to find proof that this spot was the location of the Tomato Incdent, but their efforts would have failed without Helga securing video evidence of Alphonse Scheck destroying the documents that proved it. She did this despite the fact that her own family would've benefited from the mall's construction."

"Oh, lord… this is what this whole thing's gonna be, isn't it. You're gonna schlepp me to each of these places and give a whole spiel about how I did something selfless. Well, you picked a doozy to start with. Number one, it turns out that my dad's partner was going to cheat hm out of the business, so I wouldn't have benefited at all from the mall. Number two, he probably would've gone out of business soon even if he hadn't been cheated. And number three, some other company wound up bulldozing some other neighborhood for mega-mall anyway!"

"Yeah, but it wasn't our neighborhood," pointed out Rhonda. "And, face it, this would have been a terrible location for a mall anyway. Traffic is terrible. The West Side was a much better site. And they've got some seriously choice boutiques there. Why, just a couple of days ago, I found this-"

"You're getting off-topic, dear," Nadine interrupted, elbowing her. "The point is that the eventual consequences aren't important, what is is that when it came down to it, you did the right thing."

"Yeah, okay, fine," I said, embarrassed and eager to move on. "So what's next on this stupid tour?"

"You'll see," Lila answered enigmatically.

* * *

"_You_ took me _here_?" I asked, confused. "But isn't this where…"

"…I went on a rampage when I got possessed, yes," Lila confirmed. "Look over there…. There's still a scorch mark on the pavement from where you threw a fireball at me."

"But didn't that result in the three of us beating the ever-loving bejeezus out of you? Why would you take me someplace like that?"

"True, that did happen. Of course, I wasn't exactly using my body at the time, but I didn't really feel it until afterward.

"Still… wasn't that kind of a low point in your life?"

"Helga… it's because of you I still _have_ a life. If you hadn't given me that emergency transfusion of alien blood, I'd have bled to death in Rhonda's ballroom and I wouldn't be here talking to you. And you did that for me when, let's be honest… you couldn't stand me."

"_Whaaaaat_? No… you're talking crazy talk. I never _hated_ you… not… really… well, maybe a little…"

"You did the same for me when that assassin shot me.' Rhonda added. "You protected me and stabilized me and helped the doctor get the bullet about me. And you didn't like me much more than you did Lila at the time."

"I mean… I'm not like… gonna leave people to die or anything. I'm not a _monster_… I just… look like one sometimes." I blushed. This was getting really corny. "Look, if I promise not to turn back into a lump, can we end this and go get some dinner or something? I'm kinda starving."

"Oh, no you don't." Phoebe declared. "We're doing the whole thing and you're going to be there for every minute of it."

"You know, if being a brain surgeon or rocket scientist doesn't work out for you, you have a brilliant future ahead of you in the field of torture."

"Well, this is what you get for worrying me like that. Don't ever do it again."

* * *

"Right, okay, I'm stumped for this one… this is just some random intersection."

"It's strange you don't remember what happened here, Helga," Rhonda said. "You had a pretty good view of the intersection when our float almost crashed into that building over there."

"Float...? Wait, is this where- what IS it with you girls and dragging me to the locations of horribly traumatizing events? First, a place where I almost got bulldozed, then a place I almost died in a runaway bus crash, then a place where I got pummeled by a demon, and now a place where I almost die in a runaway float wreck? Is this supposed to _not_ make me want to hide in my room all summer?"

"Look… the repeated near-death experiences are just a coincidence. The main point of this was that we built an awesome float and it won first prize and t was thanks to you securing the funding. The fact that we all nearly got killed was just window dressi-" She sighed. "Ah, forget it, Phoebe, this one was a dud. I really hope this surprise finale you've got cooked up can make up for it."

Surprise? What surprise could Phoebe have possibly planned? Sure, she knew me better than anyone else here, but a lot of that was me at my worst. What could it possibly-

…no.

Is she really going to reveal what I think she's going to reveal?

* * *

"The… hall of records?" asked Rani. "Is your big secret that Helga's incredibly boring?"

Phoebe took a deep breath. "This is the site of what I think is the most wonderful thing Helga's done. I'll say no more about it. It's a very personal thing, and I'm pretty sure Arnold and I are the only ones she ever told about it. It's not my place to reveal, but she knows exactly what I'm talking about, and she knows what I mean when I say this is the place that most brings to mind what kind of person Helga Pataki is."

I'm not crying.

I am absolutely not crying.

I swear to god I am absolutely not crying.

Oh, fuck it, one tear. One.

"Thanks," I said, hugging Phoebe. "For not mentioning it."

"Whoa," Rani said. "Helga Pataki hugging someone in public."

"Tell anyone about this and I swear to you I'll use your guts for fishing tackle."

Rani gulped. "I don't actually believe you'd do that, but I don't wanna risk it."

"Good girl. So… is that it? Are we all done now? Patty doesn't have a thing? Are you gonna get Katrinka to call in from Boulder?"

"I just wanted to make it clear to you that while Arnold may have left, you're not alone. You have plenty of people who care about you. More than you think. And we're not going to let you sink into despair, no matter how much you want to."

"Yeah, yeah… sisterhood forever, feels feels feels, are we _done_?" Okay, so, yeah, I actually am really touched they all came out here to support me, but damned if I'm gonna show it. Well, more than I already have. That hug was gonna cost me cool points, I just know it."

Phoebe grinned. "Yes, Helga, we're done."

"Good, 'cause I wasn't joking about being starved. I think we're pretty close to Taco Loco. C'mon, Rhonda's treating."

"I am?"

"Eh, you can afford it, Princess."

* * *

That night, when I finally got home, I picked up my notebook, and pen, and stared at the blank page once again.

Only, this time, I could feel the words flowing again, from my hearts to my fingers and onto the page.

When I was done, an hour later, I had filled three whole pages with a poem about an elm who fell in love with a robin that perched upon her branches (yes, I know, trees are hermaphrodites, shut up, it's a metaphor). Only to lose him when he flew south for the winter. The whole last page was just the elm repeating "I am alone" and the rocks, grass, flowers, squirrels, bugs etc. telling her she wasn't.

"Wow… this is awful," I mumbled to myself. But at least it was something. I wasn't one hundred percent, but at least my voice was back.

* * *

**A. N.: Originally, Phoebe was going to reveal the who "Arnold's Christmas" incident here, but I realized that it would be far too personal, so I just had her allude to it in a way only Helga would get.**

**If anyone is wondering who Rani Patel is supposed to be, she was a minor character from the original Body Issues who was Stinky's crush at the time. I didn't really do a ton with her but I'm hoping to flesh her out a bit more in this series when I have the chance.**

**Jose: Yeah, they were very lucky that Helga was as cooperative as she was.**

**Wonko: As established in the original BI, when the girls were mutated, some of their physical flaws were corrected; Helga no longer has her strawberry allergy and Phoebe and Rhonda no longer need glasses (Phoebe wears them in her civilian identity, but she's just Clark Kenting).**

**See you next time!**


	7. Going Medieval

Chapter 6

Going Medieval

_Hillwood Fairgrounds, Early July_

_-HELGA-_

I had a ton of plans for the summer. One of the first things on my to-do list was the annual Renaissance fair, starting the first full weekend in July. For five days, the fairgrounds would be transformed into a scene out of a storybook. Arnold and I were gonna hang out, gorge ourselves (well, _myself_) on roasted meats and just generally goof on everything.

But Arnold's in San Lorenzo. And so, I find myself instead serving as third wheel to Gerald and Phoebe, Normally, I hate being in this sort of situation but Phoebe insisted on me coming along, and, well, it was actually kind of touching that she was so eager to include me. Besides… I really didn't want to sink back into my loner act.

All in all, my mood had improved a bit since the intervention. I was leaving the house more, writing more… and better. I'd even reworked that lonely elm poem I'd written into a short story and submitted it to a local scholastic literary newsletter, just on a whim. I didn't expect it to be published or anything, but hey, what did I have to lose?

"You know," I said, "if you guys wanna go off somewhere and be gross with each other and all, it's fine. I can handle being by myself. My curling up in a stinky ball days are over."

"Sounds like a plan t'me," Gerald agreed. "Whattaya say, babe? I could be your knight, and you could me my lady."

"To be honest, I find this entire display appallingly inaccurate. This claims to be a Renaissance fair, yet it includes elements from the so-called Dark and Middle Ages with very few nods to the actual Renaissance era. Truth told, this _should_ bill itself as the "Generalized Old-Timey Hodgepodge Fair". What's more, it's quite the sanitized version of the era. Nowhere will you see the rampant filth and disease, the widespread exploitation of the masses by the landed aristocracy, the widespread misogyny…"

"Yeah, sure is a shame they left all that out," I remarked sarcastically. "And here I was looking forward to hitting up the 'Black Plague Experience' booth."

"I'm just saying… were this the actual medieval era, I very much doubt whether Gerald or I would be very welcome here at all, and you would likely be well on your way to dying in childbi- oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I," she realized, blushing. "I'm killing the vibe by overanalyzing things."

"You do know how to bring a room down," I agreed. "Actually, it kinda would be cool if they had a "Bring out'cher dead' guy pulling a cart filled with plague victims."

Phoebe giggled. "I suppose it would be both amusing and historically accurate."

"It could be like a hayride. But with corpses."

"Well, if I had any romantic feelings left, Pataki, you just murdered them," Gerald grumbled. "Thanks a lot."

"Oh, c'mon, I didn't mean it," I said, digging out my wallet. "Look, you guys go take in a joust or something, my treat. Nothin' like watchin' knights run into each other packing giant phallic objects to get the mood back, right?"

"Helga, are you sure you'll be okay on your own?" Phoebe asked.

"She's a big girl, Phoebe," Gerald advised. "She doesn't need you to nursemaid her."

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Pheebs. You don't have to worry about me. Really. I've got plenty to do here on my own."

"If you're sure…" Phoebe asked uneasily.

"She's sure, she's sure," Gerald said, tugging Phoebe along.

"Bye!" I said. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do! Wait, scratch that. Don't do anything I _would_ do."

* * *

And, like that, I was on my own. I briefly considered just ditching the fair altogether and catching a movie (_Holy Terror IV: His KILL Be Done_ was playing at the Bijou, and I was eager to see if it lived up to the heights of _Holy Terror III: Midnight Massacre_), but the scent of roasting mutton and turkey beckoned me to stay. I set off in search of Ye Olde Vittles.

The stall was in sight when thought I heard a squeaky voice shout "HELGA!" I looked back, but I didn't see anyone. I returned to my trek toward the meat stall, when I heard my name called again. "WHAT?" I called back, whirling around, still seeing nothing. And then something wrapped around my legs and I realized I should have been looking _down_. I did so now, and discovered a little girl with black pigtails had anchored herself to me. I instantly recognized the face of Rhonda's little sister, Rhia, a little bundle of cuteness who for some reason has decided she absolutely adores me.

"Criminy, squirt," I complained, trying to shake my newfound parasite off. "Where'd you come from? Shouldn't someone have you on a leash or something?"

As if on cue, Rhonda shoved her way through the crowd. "There you are!" she said. "Stop running off Ri-Ri! If I lose you, mom's gonna kill me!"

"Look, Rhonda! I found her! Now she can come too!"

"Come too?" I said. "And where would I be going?"

"Rhonda says she's gonna take me to the costume tent an' we're gonna dress up as princesses and now you can come an' dress up with us!" She looked up hopefully."

"Uh uh," I said. "That is most definitely not happening."

"C'mon, Rhia. I told you she wouldn't be into it. Let's go before the line gets too long." She gav me an apologetic glance. "Sorry, it's Inga's day off and I've got her all morning until her play date in the afternoon."

"B-but I don't wanna do it if she won't be there," she whined, her lower lip beginning to quiver. Oh lord, don't make her start crying. Please don't let her start crying.

"Ri-Ri, I'm sorry…" No, too late. Rhia had reached sniffle mode. Full-on sobbing was rapidly approaching. Rhonda looked at me pleadingly. "She's… really not used to people telling her no. Look… I'll make this up to you, I swear…"

"P-please?" Rhia asked, tears welling. Crap. I could already feel my resolve eroding. Curse her adorableness. Curse it… NO! I have to be firm. "No. It's not happening."

And then the waterworks started. Oh, good move, Helga. You almost ruined Gerald and Phoebe's date and now you've made a little girl cry. This is a red-letter day for you.

"C'mon…" Rhonda cajoled, trying to pull her off me. "I'll do anything you want. I'll give you candy. No one has to know. It'll be our secret. Just… stop crying. Please." She glanced back at me, urgency in her eyes. _Just do this one thing for me, _those eyes said. _I can't deal with this._

"Uh uh. There is _no way_ I'm getting dressed up like a- OH CRAP! No! I didn't say the whole thing! It doesn't count if I didn't say the whole thing!"

* * *

"I _can't believe_ it still counts if you don't say the whole thing," I adjusted the constricting bodice of my princess dress. "How did people breathe in these stupid things? It's like wearing a sardine can, but your boobs are the sardines!"

"Yeah, I don't remember being this uncomfortable back in fourth grade," Rhonda agreed. "Oh well… it's not for us, it's for Rhia."

"I can't believe I just spent an hour waiting on line and stuffing myself into this… frock." I grumbled. Why do I let me myself get roped into these things?

"If it makes you feel any better, you've made Rhia _very_ happy."

"Well, it doesn't."

And then Rhia emerged from where the costume tent manager was helping her into her costume (which she absolutely rocked by the way) and launched herself at me for a hug. "Hiiiii, Princess Helga! She squealed. "I'm Princess Rhia! Very nice to meet you!"

_Okay, it makes me feel a little better_, I thought as I found myself involuntarily returning her smile. The kid wasn't all that bad, really. Sure she was sickeningly cute, but not in that obnoxious sitcommy way and she could actually pronounce the letter R, which was a rarity among almost-four-year-olds. Maybe if I'd had a little sister like her growing up, I wouldn't be the cynical harpy I am today. Maybe I'd even be as disgustingly cheerful as Ol- OH GOD NO! NO! CURSED THOUGHT! LEAVE MY MIND, FOUL NOTION!

"Wouldst thou care for a portrait to commemorate yon event?" asked the costume tent attendant, whose medieval garb contrasted dramatically with her heavy eyeliner and electric-blue hair. "I shall do so by means of this maaaagical device in which, no doubt, a tiny demon paints your pictures…. Though I fear it may also capture your soul…"

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Oh, knock it off, Laura. You work in a video game store."

"Games… of video? What wonders do you speak of? Be you some kind of source- oh, forget it. You know, they make you talk like this, right?" She sighed. "Look, just remind your girlfriend to pick up her preorder of the new _Ninja's Code_, okay? It's been sitting in the reserve for two weeks and if she doesn't come get it soon, I have to put it back in inventory and she's out her deposit."

"Sure, all right."

"Please. I'm really looking forward to her stream."

"All right, all right! Yeesh. So, um… Helga, we don't have to take a picture if you don't want…"

"Aw…" pouted Rhia.

"I… guess one won't hurt," I conceded. "As long as it doesn't get out." I addressed Rhia. "Now, promise me you won't tell anyone we did this, right?"

"I promise," swore Rhia. "No one will ever know you're a secret princess."

* * *

Unfortunately for her, someone had seen Helga's semi-involuntary cosplay session through the backdoor of the tent. Surrepititiously, the observer pulled out their cel phone and snapped a quick pic of the girl. They had no use for it right now… but come the new school year, everyone would see it and Helga's reputation as the toughest chick in school would be a thing of the past. She would finally pay for the wrong she had done so many years ago.

* * *

Soon, I had extracted myself from the frilly dress and ridiculous hat, and was safely back in my jeans and pink hoodie. I vowed to myself that I would never be caught dead in something like that ever again. Arnold wouldn't mind if I got married in an old tracksuit, right?

….right. I am single. I am not supposed to be thinking about Arnold. I am supposed to be finding out what kind of person Helga Pataki is without him.

Apparently, that person is a boring person, because for the life of me I could not find a single interesting thing to do. After finally getting my hands on one of the giant turkey drumsticks from Mr. Green's booth and stripping it to the bone, there really wasn't anything here that was interesting me. I mean, what was there? I suppose I could watch Mrs. Vitello make candles or Ernie demonstrating blacksmithing. Throwing a few rotten turnips at Oskar in ye olde stocks was fun for a couple of minutes, but even hat lost its appeal.

I wondered if I should have let Phoebe and Gerald ditch me, or maybe tagged along with the Lloyd sisters… I'd probably still be bored, but I'd at least not be alone.

I continued to wander the fair, when Harvey, dressed as Ye Olde Town Crier, announced "Hear ye, hear ye! There will be a Live-Action Roleplaying session taking place in yon adjoining forest! If thou be'st interested, you can sign up at the both down yonder!"

LARP… that was nerds running around pretending to be wizards and crap like that. Ha. Imagine me, doing that sort of thing. I'd have to be really bored and desperate to even consider it…

…oh, that's right, I _am_ really bored and desperate,

* * *

"Wow," squealed Eugene, dressed in a jester's outfit and carrying a lute, in delight. "I can't believe you, of all people, are gonna be joining us for this session! We are gonna have so much fun!"

"Yup," I deadpanned, "It's gonna be a regular hootenanny."

"It sure is!" he replied obliviously. "So, what's your character? I am Euphoricus, the jolly troubadour!"

"I am Helga, the annoyed teenager tramping around the woods with a bunch of dorks because I have nothing better to do. "

"Oh," he said. "That's… kind of creative. Well, we should be careful," he warned. "I've heard tell of legendary thief lurking in these woods." He began to strum his lute. "Oh, hark to the tale of Thaddy Hood, he steals from the bad and gives to the good, if ye be a foul knave and enter his pass, ye'll soon find an arrow sticking out of your-"

"Halt!" called a voice, as a familiar figure, clad in doublet, cape, feathered cap and mask leaped from behind a tree, brandishing a prop sword. "Be thou friend or – Helga?"

"The second one," I said. "Hey, Curly."

"You're going to be joining our session? _You_?"

"Yes, already! What's so hard to believe?"

"Well… um… everything about it?"

"Look, just because LARP is for turbo-dorks and I ordinarily wouldn't be caught dead doing it, doesn't mean I can't give it a try, right? So…" I rubbed my hands together. "Who else is attending this geek party?"

"Well… Sheena's supposed to meet us in the clearing… then there's Doug, Lenny, Todd, Dermott and Benjamin, they're all from my W&W club… that's Wizards & Wyverns, by the way…" explained Eugene.

"I _know_ what W&W is… I'm not an idiot," I commented. Well, at least this wouldn't be a total sausagefest. There would be one fellow bit of estrogen in the ranks. "Well, let's go get this started then."

"Gosh, I'm really happy you're so eager to join us!" gushed Eugene. "I'm sure we'll all have lots of fun together."

"Stranger things have happened," I commented sardonically.

"They sure have!" agreed Eugene obliviously. "Oh, look, someone else seeks to join our fair party!"

I turned to where he was pointing. A figure in medieval armor was approaching, pretending to ride a horse. It slowed its imaginary steed as it approached and lifted the visor of its helm.

"Oh, Eleanor!" The old woman inside asked. "Just what are you doing in the French countryside?"

"Pookie?" I asked. "You're into LARP too?" Hell, why should I be surprised? She practically did that kind of thing every day. Maybe this _would_ be fun.

"Huh? Carp? No, I'm afraid I have no time to go fishing with you, Madame First Lady… I have to go liberate Orleans! Vive la France!" And with that, she charged off back down the path we had just came from.

God, I love that woman.

* * *

We arrived in the forest clearing within a few minutes. There was a tent staked here, most likely housing props, and a colloquy of nerds. I recognized Sheena immediately; she was dressed as some kind of elven shaman, complete with rubber Spock ears. _You can still leave, _I told myself. _The Bijou awaits. Within half an hour you could be watching a deranged defrocked Catholic priest hacking stupid teenagers apart for the glorious fourth time. _

The rest of those gathered were completely unfamiliar to me. One in particular, a portly fellow dressed as a wizard, complete with a long flowing white beard, was eyeing me with suspicion.

"Hail and well met, Euphoricus!" Sheena called, bowing slightly with fingers tented before her. "And greetings to you noble Thaddy Hood. Shariel greets you in the name of her majesty, the Elf Queen." Her eyes shifted to me, and she did a double take. "Helga?"

I sighed. "Yes, Helga! Criminy, is everyone going to act like it's some huge shock that I'd want to try something new?"

"Oh, um, well, it's not like we're not pleased to have you join us, it's just, you know…"

"What she means," interrupted the pudgy wizard, "is that it's unusual to see one such as you in our presence. Your kind usually doesn't acknowledge ours."

"And just… what exactly is my kind?" I asked, irritation growing.

"The so-called 'cool' kids," he responded with an air of superiority. "Attractive, popular, athletic. You think you're so much better than us."

I snickered. He thought I was one of the cool kids? Well… granted, it probably wasn't a hard feat to be cooler than _him_. But _cool_ was not exactly something I ever considered myself. Tough, sure, but _cool_? "Boy, do you have the wrong customer,"

"Oh, don't be dense, Helga Pataki. I know exactly who you are. You hang our in the same circles as Rhonda Lloyd and Gerald Johanssen. You're one of the cool kids even if you don't know it. Even now, I bet you're just looking for an excuse to ditch us and do something much cooler."

…okay, to be fair, this was true. I had been using the words "dork" and "geek" a lot these past few minutes with people that I generally did consider friends. Granted, I hadn't gone into this with an open mind, but just looking to slum it.

But damned if this guy wasn't really starting to push my buttons.

"Are you saying… that I'm not _geek_ enough to be here?"

"Todd, she-" Eugene began.

"Greybeard! Greybeard the Wise!" corrected Todd. "And yes… I am saying that she is quite unsuited to this gathering. Bad enough we let Thaddeus bring his girlfriend…" he added derisively.

"Hey!" protested Sheena. "_I'm_ the one who signed us up for this!"

"Uh huh," Todd replied dismissively. Oh, so _that's_ what was going on here. Truth told, I really was planning to ditch the party, but now I was gonna stick it out if only to spite Todd's misogynist ass.

"You listen here," I said, poking him in the beard. "I can geek it up with the best of 'em."

"Oh? And who are you supposed to be then? Patakis, the hoodie wearer?"

"You give me five minutes, I'll come up with a character that'll knock your socks off."

"Go ahead," he snorted "There are plenty of props and costumes in the tent. Do your best, Pataki."

"Oh, you can count on it." I pushed past him and into the tent, where I eyed the various items.

Staff, no… robe, not my style… Princess outfit, _hard_ pass, I had plenty of _that_ for the day…

Oho.

This… would do nicely.

* * *

When I exited the tent once again, I was wearing a faux-bronze breastplate and horned helmet and wielding a nasty-looking but fake battle axe. Not a golden magic slingshot, but it would do.

"Make way for Brunhelga, scourge of the Northern Seas!" I declared, hoisting my axe aloft. "The only thing greater than my lust for riches is my thirst for battle!"

"Wow, that's a really good character!" Eugene said admiringly. Some of the other ner- kids nodded along.

"You could say it came to me in a dream," I replied proudly.

"Hmmmph," scoffed Todd. "Derivative, but I suppose that's the best we can expect."

"Shame we can't all be as original as you, _Gandalf_," I snarked back. "So, now that we're all in character… how about we get this party started?"

"Well… while, technically, a party is the proper term for our battle group, you won't be finding this to be much of a celebration. Rest assured, I have prepared quite a grueling campaign for our little group. Come!" he announced, waving his staff, "We venture into the unknown! Adventure awaits!"

"So," I whispered to Eugene, "what exactly should I be expecting here? It seems like this isn't your first rodeo."

"Oh, you know… Todd's set up a bunch of carboard monsters in various placed in the forest and we engage them one at a time with coordinated attacks and spells…"

"Is he usually the one in charge?" I asked. "He seems kind of… a dick?"

"He's not that bad," Eugene answered. "Sure, he's kind of controlling, but he's the one with all the props and stuff, so we kinda just go along with-"

"Halt!" Todd interrupted. "We draw near to our first encounter… a mighty orc!" He gestured to a standee of a massive grey-skinned humanoid with a pig-like nose and tusks, wielding a club. "Be on alert. Eugenicus, rouse our spirits with a jaunty song! Bedevere," He addressed a guy dressed as a paladin, "circle around and attempt to outflank him from the rear! I shall begin preparing Magic Miss"

"Hya!" I launched myself at the cutout and swung my axe at its head, knocking it off. "Die, fiend!"

"Wow!" one of the geeks, dressed in a hooded jerkin, marveled. "That was quick!"

"Thanks," I said. "This is actually pretty fun. So, how much gold do we get?"

"You weren't supposed to do that!" Todd complained. "You were supposed to wait for my signal, and then-"

"-cut off its head?" I asked. "Well… mission accomplished. But a lot faster. So, what's next? Troll? Dragon? Let's do it!"

* * *

By the third encounter, Todd was absolutely fuming. "You can't keep doing this!" he complained.

"What?" I asked

"Just… charging in! That's not how we do things!"

"Well, it seems to be working very well."

"You're ruining it for everyone!" he spat.

"Are you sure?" I asked, indicating the party gleefully assaulting his carefully set-up "goblin horde". "Looks like everyone's doing fine except you."

"Y-you… you can't just waltz in here and take over!" he sputtered. "It took me hours to set all this up, and you just storm In here and start knocking things over and you expect me to be fine with it? This isn't how a real battle with monsters would go!"

"How the hell would YOU know?" I wasn't just angry for the sake of being angry. Out of this whole group, there was exactly one of us who had actually fought monsters, and it sure as hell wasn't him. Of course, I couldn't exactly tell _him_ that, but that didn't mean I was just going to let _him_ mansplain me the proper way of dealing with them. "When have you ever fought anything that wasn't imaginary? Face it… none of this is real!"

"IT"S REAL TO ME!" whined Todd, slamming his staff into the ground.

And then… shit got _weird_.

What I thought was a plastic gem on the tip of the staff began to glow.

"What the-" someone next to me started to say, but the display had only just begun. The staff began releasing a thick swirling mist that enveloped everything in sight. For his part, Todd seemed to be just as surprised as everyone else.

I felt a weird warm energy suffuse me as the magical mist engulfed us. A wave of disorientation passed over me and for a moment, I wasn't sure I could even feel my own body. And then… I was back, and there was a sudden heavy weight in my right hand.

I looked down. What once had been a plastic breastplate was now real bronze. Boots of a similar design adorned my feet. The helmet on my head was similarly far more authentic than it had been. And the axe in my hand now had a real heft to it, as if it was a real weapon.

"What in the fuck-" I mumbled to myself, as my fellow teens let out similar gasps. I looked around; Curly was now shocked to discover that his prop bow had been replaced by a real one, ditto Paladin Kid's sword. Sheena discovered with an astonished yelp that her elf ears were no longer rubber, but real.

"Todd!" I demanded, grabbing him by the robe and shaking him. "What the hell did you _do_?"

"I… I don't know!" He stammered. "I just wanted this to be real so badly and-"

"Well, UNWANT it!" I commanded,

"Okay," he whimpered, "I… I wish everything was normal again!" He banged the staff on the ground again, but nothing happened. "I wish we were all back in Hillwood!" Again. Nothing.

"Just where exactly did you get that staff?" I asked?

"I… I found it at this weird old pawnshop on Vine Street. I didn't know it was a real wizard staff at the time, okay? In fact, I didn't know there were real wizard staffs?"

"Uh, The plural is _staves_," corrected the paladin.

"Right," I said. "_That's_ what was wrong with that whole sentence."

"Maybe… it won't work until we fulfill his original wish?" suggested Eugene. "I bet if we see his campaign through to the end, everything'll go back to normal."

"That… makes sense." I begrudgingly conceded. Gahhh, I hate magic. "Okay, 'Greybeard', you're the one who planned this whole thing out… what comes next?"

"Well…. I had a troll set up due east of here." He said nervously, clearly upset that this whole situation had gotten away from him. _Good_, I thought. _That'll teach you to dabble in dark magicks. And to be a sexist dick_.

"Okay, you heard him," I said. "Let's go east and smash his stupid troll, then move on to the-"

"Wait!" Sheena warned. "If all our costumes and weapons are real, then that probably means-"

THUMP.

I did not like the sound of that.

The thumping grew louder, as did the sound of trees breaking. I liked the sound of that even less.

"-that the monsters are also real," I finished, as a massive green creature broke through the treeline, ready to bring his mace down on our soft squishy bodies.

I _really_ fucking hate magic.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, it's been pretty straightforward until now, so we were about due for some serious weirdness!**

**Helga's character, of course, is a nod to the classic episode "What's Opera, Arnold?" but also to Cre8ivelyBankrupt's epic fic **_**The Mitigators, **_**which all of you should totally go read.**

**Jose: Phoebe's always been the one who knows what Helga needs, even better than she does.**

**Next: The World According to LARP**


	8. The World According to LARP

Chapter 7

The World According to LARP

The big joust was taking place at the time the dome over the woods appeared, so few people noticed at first, but word spread very quickly and soon the more mundane activities at the fair were abandoned as bystanders massed to gawk at the phenomenon. The few security personnel at the event had their collective hands full trying to keep masses of rubberneckers away.

The local authorities were soon called in, but "mysterious magic barriers" not being a type of situation the police tended to handle, they, too, were quickly forced to relegate themselves to crowd control while awaiting the arrival of someone who was equipped to deal with it. The police department's general procedure in cases such as this was to maintain the peace as best they could until one of Hillwood's superhuman protectors appeared. They were unaware that one of said protectors was currently trapped inside the dome.

One of Hillwood's protectors was on scene, but not exactly ready for action at the time the dome appeared. Phoebe, who at first had been resistant to fully enjoying the Ren Fair experience on the grounds of its many inaccuracies, had finally allowed herself to be talked into going native by Gerald.

"I must admit that the dress does make me feel… royal," she said, as the two strolled approached the exit of the wardrobe tent.

"Shall we take a stroll, m'lady?" Gerald asked, extending a hand. He too, was dressed in princely finery. "Our kingdom awaiteth."

"That's not very accurate period English… eth." Phoebe responded.

"Well, then, I shall endeavor-eth to do better-eth."

"I would most appreciate that-eth!" Phoebe quipped with a grin, taking his hand as they strolled out."

"Hey, uh… does it seem more… panicky out here than it was before?" Gerald asked, concerned.

"Now that you mention it…" Phoebe acknowledged, brows knitting. "Hey!" she called to a passing woman, "what's going on?"

"No idea," the passerby answered, "all I've heard is something strange is going on over by that little wooded area near the fairground. I was actually going over to get a better look."

Phoebe and Gerald glanced at each other. "I know that look," he said, disappointed. "I'm about to be a solo act again, aren't I."

"It couldn't hurt to go check it out before I go change," Phoebe suggested. "It's probably going to take a while to get out of this outfit anyway."

The two followed the crowd to the site of the disturbance. "That is one big bubble," commented Gerald, whistling.

"I suspect it would take far more than a pin to puncture it," agreed Phoebe. "I wonder if I could perhaps take a closer look..." She attempted to weave her way through the crowd of looky-loos seeking a better vantage point from which to observe the strange phenomenon, but it proved to be quite difficult. Magnetica, despite being the most petite of Hillwood's mutants, was at least somewhat intimidating; Phoebe Heyerdahl was decidedly not.

At last, she spotted an in, but her triumph was short-lived, as the reason the crowd was thinner there was due to the presence of a police officer.

"And where do you think you're going, your majesty?" he asked, smirking a bit at his cleverness.

"Oh, um… I just wanted to get a better look at the bubble…"

"Well, that's too bad. The bubble is off-limits, unless you have some sort of idea how to get rid of it."

"Well, actually, I-" She paused. How exactly did she plan on convincing this guy to let her past? She didn't exactly look the part right now. She was a teenager playing dress-up. Granted, that kind of described Magnetica too, but at least she had powers to back herself up. "…never mind. I'll just be going."

"Well?" Gerald asked.

"It seems Princess Phoebe's royal authority doesn't extend to the Hillwood police department," she explained. "And by the time I get out of this stupid dress, go home, shift, change into my costume, and fly back here, who knows how much this situation will escalate?"

"Aw, man… I'm really sorry I talked you into this," Gerald replied regretfully.

"It's okay," Phoebe replied reassuringly. "It's not like anyone could have predicted this situation. Besides… we do have other options. I'll simply call-" She fumbled with her dress's bodice. "Oh, crap."

"Did you leave your phone in the wardrobe tent?"

"No, it's here, it's just… not very accessible at the moment. What about you?"

"Pop's got me on a VERY rigid plan after he saw my last bill," Gerald complained. "I'm supposed to only use my phone for emergencies until I pay him back."

"Well, I'm not sure what exactly would qualify as an 'emergency', but I think an allowance could be made that this is one. Call Helga. Quickly."

Gerald dialed. "It went right to voice-mail," he informed.

"Odd," Phoebe mused. "She was supposed to be here."

"Maybe she's already looking into it?" Gerald suggested hopefully.

"Possibly. Try Rhonda."

"All right," Gerald said, dialing. "But I tell ya, whatever's inside there can't be as scary as my dad when he's in penny-pinching mode."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Phoebe dismissed, grabbing the phoen when she heard Rhonda say "_Hello_?"

"Have you seen the news?" Phoebe asked, cutting straight past the pleasantries.

"_It's been kind of hard to miss_," Rhonda responded. "_Unfortunately, I'm still on babysitting detail, and I can't really blow it off. The good news is that I called Lila and she should be on her way soon._"

"Well, that's good at least. Have you been able to reach Helga?"

"_No, I keep getting sent to voice mail… you don't think maybe she's in there, do you?_"

"That… would explain why we couldn't reach her," conceded Phoebe. "Which means that whatever's going on in there, she's in the middle of it."

"Just sit tight," Rhonda assured. "Lila should be there any minute, and if I can find a way to get out of babysitting, I'll be there as soon as can."

"All right," Phoebe answered, though she wasn't reassured in the least. If Helga truly was trapped inside the dome, there was no way to tell what unspeakable horrors she was facing right now.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Oh, god, no…. make it stop… make it stop…." I groaned.

"Gosh, all I was doing was trying to rouse our spirits with a jaunty song!" Eugene replied cluelessly. "_Smite, smite, smite, smite the foul troll, strike hard, strike true, before he takes his toll._"

I rolled to dodge the swing of the troll's massive club before it could reduce me to Helga paste. "Well, it's very distracting when I'm trying my very best to not die." I scrambled to my feet as the troll raised his club to strike yet again.

"Personally, I thought your song was very nice," encouraged Sheena.

"Less ego-soothing, more fighting!" I yelled. This was hardly my first monster fight, but this wasn't exactly the kind of fight I was used to. Usually, I had my powers to rely on, but now, I was forced to depend entirely on the capabilities of a human body… that, and an ax I barely knew how to use. You'd think an ax would be a pretty simple weapon, but watching someone use one in a medieval movie and actually wielding one were two very different things. "We need a strategy!"

"Oh, so now look who wants to think instead of charging in blindly?" snarked Todd.

"Oh, gosh," I remarked sarcastically, jumping back from another swing. "It's almost like circumstances have changed somehow. What could it be? Maybe before, we were fighting monsters made of cardboard and magic marker, but now they're alive and fighting back because someone brought them to life?"

"I-t's not like I meant to!" protested Todd. "I didn't know this thing was actually magic when I bought it!"

"Well, it is, and now there's an angry troll. So if you're not going to step up, I guess I'm in charge now."

"We never agreed to that!" Todd complained. "I'm the dungeonmaster here!"

"All those in favor of making Helga the new dungeonmaster?" asked the paladin guy. His, Sheena's, Eugene's, and Curly's hands went up immediately; the latter I expected, since all three of them were aware of my secret identity and knew what I was capable of. A bit more surprisingly, the necromancer guy, Lenny, and Doug (who I guess was some kind of hobbit?) raised their hands as well.

"Looks like the people have spoken," I said. "Okay, so… we need to somehow weaken this guy so those of us who fight up close can get in there and take it down. What've we got?"

"I could play a mesmerizing ditty to distract him," offered Eugene.

"….do we have ideas that aren't _that_?" I asked, not eager for more lute music.

"Um…" offered Sheena, "One of my character's abilities is 'miasma.' It can make a single enemy dizzy. But well, my abilities are just make-believe."

"I think the line between reality and fantasy is pretty much non-existent at the moment," Curly commented. "Try it out."

"Okay, uh…" Sheena raised her staff. "I call upon the spirit of the forest! I cast… MIASMA!" To her surprise, the staff began to glow, summoning a purple fog that enveloped the troll's head. "I-I did that," she realized, staring at her weapon.

"All right! Now! You, with the sword!"

"My name's Benjamin," he replied.

"Whatever, let's get it while it's dizzy! You go low, I'll go high!" I charged at the creature, not waiting for him. Thankfully, he followed my lead, striking at the creature's leg, bringing it to its knee while I swung my axe at its neck. It connected, and the entire creature disintegrated into mist.

"Y-you… you killed him," Sheena stammered, looking a bit sick.

"Hey," I said, "It was that thing or us. Besides… it's not like it was even real to begin with. And really, it could have been a lot worse. It could have left behind a big, gross corpse with blood and guts pouring ou-" I noticed that Sheena seemed to be on the verge of throwing up. "Oh, this isn't really helping, is it."

"Not really, no," Curly answered, helping his nauseated beau to her feet. "You alright, my statuesque sweetie?"

"I'll… I'll be okay in a little while," she said weakly. "I wasn't prepared for things to get so brutal."

You know…" Curly lowered his voice, "maybe you should get… changed?"

"Curly, I barely know most of these guys. How am I going to explain Temper suddenly appearing out of nowhere while Helga vanishes?"

"We'll come up with something. Right now, your powers might give us an edge that might get us out of here without Sheena getting traumatized any further."

"I said I'm okay," Sheena said, stifling a gag.

"All right, fine," I said. "Just cover for me."

I snuck off into the woods, waiting until I was sure no one could see me, before shedding my breastplate (thank goodness whatever spell was in effect had put some undergarments beneath it), and tried triggering my transformation.

Nothing. Something about whatever enchantment was in effect was also blocking my access to my mutant form. Figured. Todd's spell basically made our game personas real, and mine was badass Viking chick, not an alien-hybrid superheroine.

Fucking _magic_.

Denied my easy solution, I put my armor back on and returned to the group. "No luck," I whispered to my three in-the-know friends. "The magic is blocking my powers. Right now, I'm just a mean girl with an ax."

"Well, that stinks," Curly remarked. "Honestly, this isn't nearly as fun as you'd think a living RPG would be. I would've really liked to have an instant win button available. You know, just get it over with…"

I snapped my fingers. "_That_ is a good idea. Hey! Dorkbeard!" I demanded. "This was your campaign. Any way we can skip to the final boss or something?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," he said. "A proper campaign can't be rushed. Each encounter prepares the party for the next. The final encounter is designed to test all we have learned."

"I don't know if you noticed, but this is _not a proper campaign!_" I spat back. "Now tell us, what did you have set up at the end?"

He sighed. "Fine. My last enemy was going to be the legendary three-headed dragon of Zarr, in the far end of the forest. It was going to be glorious."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I'm sure it would have been truly the most epic hitting-cardboard-with-plastic action in the history of nerddom. But thanks to _your_ fuckup, we are now facing an _actual_ threeheaded dragon." I grabbed him by the robe. "So, since this whole scenario was your creation, you better let us know what we can expect so we can take this thing out, because I'm really, really tired of all this medieval shit."

He sniffed. "So, _now_ you need me, it seems," he asked condescendingly. "Very well. It appears I am once again the leader of this adventuring party."

"Ngggh… FINE! If it gets us out of here faster, lead the damn way!" At this point, I was so _done_ that I really didn't care if I was stoking this dweeb's ego. I just wanted out.

"Well, then," Todd proclaimed. "We are off!"

As they walked off, Eugene began happily strumming his lute. "Ohhhhh… we're off to fight the dragon, the terrible dragon of Zarr, we fear he is deadliest dragon of all the dragons there are!"

"Excuse me," I said, "Can I see that for a moment?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Eugene said, handing it over. I immediately smashed it against the trunk of a tree.

"Sorry," I said, handing the remains back. Okay, yeah, that was probably uncalled for, but can you really blame me?

* * *

**A.N.: Well, I wasn't going to end it here, but since it's been over three weeks since I updated the story and all, I decided to break on a joke shamelessly stolen from Star Trek: TNG (which itself stole the joke from **_**Animal House**_** so fair's fair. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner because I really want to get to the next arc, which will be a sequel to one of the original series' most beloved episodes.**

**Jose: The Pines aren't always easy to get a hold of on short notice, but you can bet Helga'll probably want to have a word with Ford regarding the source of the mysterious wizard staff.**

**Next: Dragon Quest. A Helga draws near!**


	9. Dragon Quest XII

Chapter 8

Dragon Quest XII: Search for the Sinister Serpent

As what would come to be known as the Magic Bubble Crisis (though local news stations tried o brand the incident with witty names of their own, such as "Bubble Trouble" and "Dome of Mystery") dragged on into its second hour, it showed no signs of becoming any less of a circus, especially now that the media had arrived.

At this moment, Lynn Vega of Channel 8 News was delivering a live update on the situation to anchor Chet Harwood. "Well, as of this time it's been officially a full hour since the energy dome appeared. We still know nothing about how or why it happened. It has been confirmed that there were, in fact, several people in the area when the dome appeared. We haven't been able to get a positive ID on any of them, though a local woman claims to have seen 'Eleanor Roosevelt' pass her. We are unsure exactly how reliable this witness is, though, as she then claimed to be Joan of Arc and asked if I was one of the king's spies. Once again, that is everything we know at this time. We will continue to bring you updates as long as the-" She looked up. "Hold it. It appears local superhero Decibelle has just arrived on the scene, presumably to investigate the situation. We'll see if we can get a word in with her." The reporter made a beeline to the redheaded, green-skinned alien, who had just landed on the outskirts of the crowd and was attempting to make her way in. Bothering her would probably be considered rude, but Vega hadn't won three local Newsie awards by being polite. She pushed her way through the crowd and thrust her microphone in Decibelle's emerald, freckle-specked face. "Decibelle! Lynn Vega, Channel 8. Can you tell us anything about the dome?"

* * *

_-LILA-_

I had just landed when I saw the reporter coming my way. Inwardly I cringed. The others were so much better at dealing with this sort of thing than I. Sadly, I lacked Rhonda's ease with gladhanding or Helga's ability to just shove everyone out of the way. Polite deference, alas, was baked into my very person.

"Well, gosh, Ms. Vega," I replied, "I've only just gotten here myself, so I'm sorry to say that I really don't know much of anything, but I'm certain if I do find anything out, I'll be glad to share it with the public. So, if you would please excuse me…"

"Is this connected to the recent paranormal activity in Paris and Amity Park? Could this be a revenge attempt by one of your past adversaries?"

"Later, I promise!" I finally located Phoebe in the crowd and made straight for her. Anything to get away from this woman. One of these days, I have to learn how to be more assertive.

"Good, you made it," Phoebe said.

"This was the fastest I could make it.," I replied. "That dress just simply adorable on you, by the way."

She blushed. "Oh, Gerald just talked me into it. It's really not something I would have ordinarily- do you really think it looks nice?"

"Oh, yes, of course, just ever-so-nice!"

"Uh, well… ahem… thanks. Anyway… I haven't been able to get anywhere near the doe, especially not I my current attire, but I have a feeling you will have a bit more sway with the authorities."

"I'll try. Have you heard anything from Helga?"

"No, and I'm afraid we won't any time soon. It seems like there's a very good chance she's already in there."

"How do you know?"

"Well… you know Arnold's grandma, right?"

"Oh yes, she's quite the character."

"Well, she managed to get out of the forest just before the dome appeared, and she claimed to have seen Eleanor Roosevelt just before she did."

"Well, that's ever-so-interesting, but I'm not so certain just what-"

"That's her little code-name for Helga."

"Oh…" I actually didn't know that. "I suppose we should go try to get a closer look now…" Hefting Phoebe, I ascended a bit to avoid the crowd and fluttered nearer to where the police had set up their barricade. The officer looked me over. _Stand tall, _I told myself. _You are a strong, capable hero. You can handle this._ It's taken a long time for me to be comfortable in this skin. It took me over a year to even start going on regular patrols like the other girls. I still don't do it as often as I should. It doesn't exactly help that when I first changed, a demon possessed my body and used it to go on a destructive rampage. To this day, it still feels like I don't deserve the trust this city puts in me.

_Suck it up, Sawyer_, Helga's voice came unbidden. _You're the mutant on the spot, act like it and look him in the eye. You out-stare him by fifty percent anyway. _Right. I met the officer's gaze. "Hello? I'm here to check out the situation. I'm sure you are aware that the department has given us authorization on any circumstances of an unusual nature. I would say something like this definitely qualifies. I trust I don't need to provide any proof that I am who I say I am…" I flexed my wings for emphasis; it's hard to fake those.

"Okay, you've made your point," he admitted. "You're free to go ahead. She isn't."

"She's with me, " I contended. "She's my technical advisor."

"Technical advisor? That kid can't be more than 12!"

"I'm 15," Phoebe corrected irritably.

"I vouch for her credentials," I bluffed. This would be a lot easier if Phoebe had been able to change beforehand. We really need some kind of easier way to swap outfits. If only that technology existed…

"All right," the officer relented. "Just as long as you realize the responsibility is yours if anything happens to her." With that, he let us through the police cordon.

_Good work, _I told myself. _You got through it without a single "ever so". Who knows, maybe the habit's finally broken._

"Wow," I said, as we got closer. "You kinda don't get a feel for how big it is from the air, but standing right here, I have to say it's pretty impressive."

"Yes… very," agreed Phoebe. "Can you use the sensors in your suit to analyze it? If there's a weakness, maybe we can exploit it."

"All right…" Now, how do I do this again? "Bridgi, can you please scan the energy field in front of me?"

"_Only because you asked me nicely,"_ the suit's onboard AI answered. Its personality was programmed in by the suit's creator, Bridget Leigh (who had also patterned the AI's voice after her own), and apparently she'd seen fit to give it a degree of sass. Of course it would still have complied if I hadn't said "please", but it would have responded more sarcastically.

Readings began to play across my suit's visor, some of which I understood, some I didn't. Those I did fluctuated wildly, often contradicting themselves. "Here," I said, handing it over to Phoebe. "Maybe this'll make more sense to you."

"All right," she said, putting it on. "…nope. This is all gibberish."

"Good, I'm not an idiot, then," I replied. "Well, if science isn't telling us anything, there _is_ an alternative…"

"I really don't want to agree with that, but sadly I'm afraid I must. In all likelihood, we appear to be dealing with magic. Which is something I know exactly two things about. Jack, and I think you can guess the other."

"You mean 'shit'?"

"Lila!" Phoebe gasped, scandalized.

"Oh, please, I'm a big girl. I don't faint in the presence of the occasional naughty word." Well, I'm not _that_ blasé, but coming out on top of my confrontation with the police officer had me feeling my oats, so to speak. "So… " I cracked my lower pair of knuckles, "I was thinking we could at least try to break through the field with my sonic pulses."

"I don't know," Phoebe mused. "There's no way to know how your powers will interact with the mystic energies at play here."

"Well, unless you have a direct phone line to a professional wizard, it's the only suggestion I have."

"As a matter of fact, I do have a connection with an expert on the supernatural."

"That's good."

"Unfortunately, he's notoriously difficult to get a hold of on short notice."

"That's bad."

"Fortunately, I did manage to find a coven online. We might be able to get somewhere after all."

I stared at the bubble. The colors and patterns on the surface were in a constant state of flux, chaotic and unfathomable. "Do you think Helga's okay in there?"

"Helga?" Phoebe smirked. "She's probably the most dangerous thing in there."

* * *

_-HELGA-_

My axe sliced through the goblin's neck, severing it cleanly as both parts dissipated into black mist.

"Okay, Todd… excuse me, _Greybeard_…" I added as he opened his mouth to correct me; it wasn't so much that I cared about being accurate as I did about him not correcting me in that whiny voice of his. "This is the third ambush you've led us into. I'm starting to think that maybe you don't have the control over this situation that you said you have."

"Nonsense," he deflected. "It so happens we are exactly where I said we would be. But obviously, I can't anticipate what the monsters will do now that they have a will of their own, can I?" He raised his staff and shouted, "LIGHTNING BOLT!" instantly incinerating a goblin inches away from Sheena, who looked like she was on the verge of curling up into a ball so tight it could be classified as a quantum singularity. Poor girl. For a pacifist like her, this whole situation must be a nightmare.

Okay, I can't exactly argue with his logic. If the monsters were acting on their own, I couldn't exactly blame him for their movements, could I? But this was just frustrating. We'd been wandering around these woods for days, or at least it felt like it. Oddly, we never seemed to get hungry, thirsty or tired, no matter how much time seemed to pass, adding to the weird dreamlike feel of it all.

"Still, it's been forever, and we haven't seen hide nor hair of this so-called dragon of yours. Just a bunch of random annoying monsters like these things."

"We're close, I can feel it."

"We'd better be." Curly insisted, dispatching the last of the goblins with his dagger. "My Sheenie-Beanie didn't sign up for _this_."

"I-I'm fine. Really," Sheena stammered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to be sick for a completely unrelated reason."

Poor Sheena. She got flustered whenever she even stepped on a bug, so being stuck in the middle of all this brutality, even if it was just Todd's imagination made real, must have been really messing her up.

"Well, if we're quite _done_," Todd sniffed, "we are nearly there. Everyone, get ready for the epic battle of a lifetime!"

"This better be it," I said. "Or that wizard staff's winding up in your stomach."

"I'd like to see you make me eat it," Todd scoffed.

"Oh, it won't be taking _that_ route," I retorted, giving him a pointed look.

* * *

_-LILA-_

Another hour had passed. In that time, Phoebe had gotten the instructions for a spell from the coven, and contacted Rhonda, who had successfully dropped her sister off at her playdate, to get the needed ingredients for the rite. I was just hoping my minister never found out about this, but if saving a friend isn't worth dabbling in a little witchcraft, what is?

"Were you able to get everything?" Phoebe asked as our violet-skinned friend set down.

"The cauldron was easy. I borrowed one from one of the fair booths, and was able to pick up most of the ingredients in the supermarket. A few of them were pretty vague, so I fudged it as best I could. And one I couldn't, but I guess we'll get to that one when we get to it."

"It'll have to do," Phoebe said. "We're going to need a fire first…"

"I can handle that," I said. "I was a Campfire Lass for a little while, and, well, that's kind of the first thing they teach you, being it's in the name and all." I gathered a bunch of stray would and arranged it properly. "Now, I just need to rub the right two sticks together…."

"Or I could just do this," Rhonda interrupted, striking the pile with a jolt of electricity.

"…I suppose that works too…" Phoebe said, planting the cauldron and filling it with water. "All right…" She checked her phone, which she had finally managed to free from her bodice. "First ingredient… wisteria."

"Got it," Rhonda replied, tossing in a few sprigs.

"Next… three holly berries."

"Done," Rhonda said, tossing them in.

"Okay, next we're going to need a mandrake root… an aspen leaf… ten acorns…" One by one, Rhonda tossed them into the pot.

"I'm not exactly familiar with this sort of thing, but should something be happening yet?" I asked.

"Hey, we're all winging it here, no pun intended," Phoebe replied. "Okay, here's where things start getting conceptual… I'm going to need a…" She checked, "fallen star?"

"I have a photo of Ronnie Matthews." Rhonda answered, dropping it in.

"Ouch," Phoebe remarked, smirking at the shade. There was no love lost between her and the ex-chart-topper. "How about… a crystallized nightmare?"

"_Rats: The Movie_ on Blu-Ray." She dropped the disc into the mixture.

"You are just on fire today," Phoebe giggled.

"I didn't think the CGI was _that_ bad," I remarked.

"We'll see if whatever powers witchcraft agrees," Rhonda said. "But personally, it gave me a serious case of the Uncannies. Okay, what's left?"

"Just one more ingredient. We need a drop of demon's blood."

"I was afraid of that," Rhonda replied. "That was the one thing I couldn't get."

"Couldn't you have fudged it like the others? Maybe there's some kind of energy drink or something called 'Demon's Blood' that you could've gotten?"

"I thought of that too. It kinda sounds like an energy drink name, doesn't it? But no, I couldn't find anything like that at any of the stores I went to."

"Actually," I said, "I think I know where we can get it." I took off one of my gloves, held my hand out over the bubbling cauldron, and pressed m thumb's claw into my palm as hard as I could, piercing the skin. A single teal drop fell down into the mixture. "I may not technically be a demon, but my body did hold one for a little while, so it should count."

"Lila…" Phoebe began.

"It's the past, and this way maybe something good actually came out of it, right? Now, what do we do?"

Phoebe checked her phone. "According to this, we stir the pot until the mixture turns purple while chanting this gibberish right here." She showed us the incantation. "I feel so dirty about this. It's so… unscientific."

"It's our only option," Rhonda stated, grabbing a stick. "Now, what was that incantation again?"

* * *

_-HELGA-_

After still more wandering, made even more excruciating by the fact that Eugene had managed to fix his lute (well, _fix_ was a misnomer, as it was horribly out of tune now, but it was in one piece), we finally arrived at a large clearing. "We are here!" Todd declared.

"I can't help but notice a distinct lack of three-headed dragons," I noted. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing, Brunhelga," Todd answered in an unnerving voice.

And then… he began to laugh.

"Todd… what's going on?" one of the nerds whose name I couldn't be bothered to remember asked.

"Fools! Don't you see? It was _I _who was the villain all along! It was I who led us in circles and continually summoned hordes of enemies to slowly wear you down, all so I could lead you into this trap! Now, prepare to face the power of a true wizard!" He began to laugh even more insanely, floating upward as energy crackled around the tip of his staff.

"To be honest, we really should have seen this twist coming," Eugene commented.

"You… put us through all of this… just so you could betray us in the end?" Sheena asked. She had an expression I'd seen before, just not on her. Usually, it was in the mirror.

It was sheer unbridled fury.

"Yes? So what are you going to do about it, miss pacifist? You don't have the guts to hurt anyone, much less me."

"She doesn't have to," I said. "I'm more than happy to kick your ass for her."

"Oh, and how are you going to do that? You're forgetting… this is my realm. I command the elements. I can summon monsters at will. All your lives are in my hands now."

"Yep. He's gone full crazy," Curly remarked. "Believe me, I know it when I see it."

"I don't get it," the paladin guy said. "Sure, he's kind of a jerk, but he's never been full-on supervillain like this."

"The staff's probably cursed or something," I responded. "You know, standard deal, get a thing from a creepy shop, it tuns out to be all evil and shit, drives the owner insane. You see it all the time."

The nerds who I didn't know personally all looked at me, uncomprehending.

"In movies. You see it all the time in movies." There we go. No need for suspicion. "In any case, we need to get the staff away from him. "

"You're welcome to try," Todd declared. "But I have a feeling you'll all be quite busy." He raised his staff. "I did promise you a three-headed dragon."

The beast in question shimmered into existence behind the nerd-turned-wizard. "Destroy them," he commanded. The creature roared its assent and unleashed a torrent of flame from its mouths.

"FLAME SHIELD!" shouted Sheena, calling up a glowing red aura around the party. The flames harmlessly flowed over us; I could feel their heat, but it didn't burn. "There. Now you guys are on an even footing with the dragon." She looked up at Todd. "I'll handle him."

"That's my girl," Curly remarked with pride.

"You heard her," I said. "Let's take this thing out."

"Really," Todd commented with a smirk. "_You_ are going to fight _me_."

Sheena's eyes narrowed. "Everyone has a limit, Todd. Even me. BRAMBLE." Thorny vines burst from the ground beneath the wizard, reaching up to grapple him.

"FIREBALL", countered Todd, incinerating the vines. "Not bad. It seems you do have some backbone after all. But you'll soon see that I can counter anything force can bring against me."

"Then I suppose I'll have to get creative."

* * *

While this was happening, the rest of us had our hand pretty full. Sure, Sheena's spell had neutralized the dragon's flame, but there was still a gigantic beast with sharp claws, a spiked tail, and three sets of slavering jaws to deal with.

"Well, look on the bright side," Eugene said, "at least it can't fly."

"That's really reassuring, Eugene," I remarked sarcastically. "After it gobbles us up it'll have to walk back to its lair."

"Hey, don't give up! All you need is to look on the bright side." He began to strum his horrifically out-of-tune lute. "_Every seed turns into a flower, every second turns to an hour…"_

The dragon suddenly began to convulse and screech in pain.

"Yes! Your horrible playing is weakening it!" I gave him a reassuring slap on the back. "Keep playing, it just might save our lives!"

"Uh.. thanks? I didn't think I was that bad, but, um… if it's helping… _Turn that frown, upside down… and there's a great big smile!"_

"Okay, everybody! Now, while it's weakened… everyone attack!"

We all charged the creature, each of us attacking a different part as Eugene continued to play.

"_So. never give up on hope."_

Curly slid between the dragon's legs and peppered its soft underside with arrows.

"_It's a life-saving rope!"_

The hobbit kid ran up the dragon's tail and across its back and left neck to plunge his dagger into its throat.

"_And like a seed grows, dreams come true_"

The necromancer levitated the paladin upward, giving him the opportunity to shove his spear into the right skull.

"_Just because you're you!"_

As the great beast staggered, I brought my ax up, sinking it into its center neck, finally dispatching it once and for all.

"Okay, I'm about ready for all of this to be over," I said, turning my attention to Todd and Sheena's wizard duel. It was a stalemate, Todd assaulting with arcane flames and lightning and Sheena countering with earth and wind magic.

"Should we help her?" asked Eugene.

A stray bolt struck the ground immediately in front of me. "I think she's got this," I suggested.

Curly rubbed his chin. "They've got each other matched, but unless she can get in close and grab the staff, we're stuck here."

"So… you're supposed to be a thief, right? Can you, like, use mad thief skillz to get the staff away from him?"

"If I can get near him, but how am I going to do that?"

I surveyed the area. "He's getting awfully close to those trees… maybe try climbing one?"

"I think that could work…" he said. "I just need the right moment…"

The right moment came very quickly when Sheena also noticed how close Todd was to the tight copse of trees. "ANIMATE!" she called, causing the trees to snare Todd in its branches.

"I always knew she was a treehugger, but this is a little on the nose," I commented. Curly was already in motion, scurrying up the lower branches and snatching the staff out of Todd's hands.

"Catch!" He said, flinging it my way.

"And what am I supposed to with this stupid thing?" I shot back.

"I don't know! Try something!"

"Damn it, I don't know how this stupid thing works! All I can think to do is… " I swung the staff against the nearest boulder as hard as I could.

There was a cracking sound…

…a bright light…

No… it COULDN"T have been that easy…

* * *

_-LILA-_

"_Owa… Tador…. Kayyam_..."

The three of us had been chanting the incantation for five minutes now, with absolutely no tangible results. Something was really beginning to nag at me..

…wait a minute…

"Phoebe… I think we've all just gotten trolled," I said.

"What do you m-" She slapped her forehead. "'Oh, what a dork I am?' How did I not see it? So…. this is what it's like to feel like an idiot."

"Wait, maybe not!" Rhonda interrupted, turning her attention toward the dome. Sure enough, the barrier was starting to dissolve from the top down. "Maybe it really did work."

"I kind of doubt it, but I'll take what I can get."

* * *

_-HELGA-_

It had been that easy.

The light grew brighter and brighter, forcing my eyes closed. The same feeling of disconnect with reality I'd felt when this first started passed through me again. And then… there we were, back in the exact place we'd been when the whole escapade started. I could once again feel my everyday clothed underneath my Viking costume, and my ax was once again a plastic prop.

"Y-you did it." Eugene marveled. "And look, my lute's all fixed!"

"Well, I guess there's always some bad news," I muttered.

"Sheena's the real hero here," Curly declared, giving his willowy squeeze a squeeze. "Though I have to say I'm kind of going to miss the pointy ears."

Nearby, Todd groaned, dazed. "Uhhh… what happened… "

"Todd, I think we should go in a different direction with the club." Eugene said. "One where you're not in it."

"What?" he sputtered. "You can't be serious! I AM The club."

"….see, it's stuff like that there," Eugene said. "It's not just that you nearly killed us all with an arcane artifact…"

"Though that's a pretty big part," Sheena interjected.

"…it's also that you're far too controlling. The LARP club should be about fun, not about you. That's why I think the new president should be Helga."

"Oh… oh hell no," I said "No to every single word of that. I honestly never want to hear the word 'LARP' ever again. Honestly… I think _you_ should be the new president. Seeing as you actually seem to care about this stuff."

"I second Helga's motion!" Sheena added.

"You can't second her motion! She isn't in the club!" complained Todd.

"I really don't think anyone cares at this point. All in favor of making Eugene the new club president?" All hands except Todd's went up.

"Can I at least have my staff back?"

"Yeah, no, you're not getting anywhere near this thing ever again." I said. _And I'm going to have to see if I can find this mysterious shop where he got it, _I told myself. _It could be trouble. _

"Helga!" A familiar voice called. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine! Everything's all taken care of."

Phoebe emerged from the woods flanked by Rhonda and Lila in their hero guises, and looking even more outlandish in her full princess regalia. "Thank goodness you're all right," she said, flinging herself at me.

"Yes," Lila added, "We're glad all you innocent civilians who we're unfamiliar with are all safe."

"Absolutely. Thank you, other anonymous citizen whom we've never met before," continued Rhonda.

"Criminy, you guys must have been looking for me for days," I said.

"Actually, it's been two and a half hours," she corrected.

"It has? It felt like it was longer." I checked my restored phone and sure enough, it had indeed been less than three hours since I last checked it. No wonder I never felt hungry or sleepy. Must have been on the Jeremy Bearimy plan or something. "That means I can still catch the last movie in the 'Holy Terror' marathon!"

"Really? After all of this?"

"Yeah… after what I've been through, I think some _fake_ horror would be just the ticket. You wanna come with?"

"Actually… yes, that sounds nice," Pheobe said. "I'll just call Gerald to let him know…"

"Hell, invite him along. And if you see Rhonda or Lila, tell them they can come too," I said. "In the meantime, maybe you two superheroes could take this dangerous object into custody." I handed Rhonda the staff.

"A stick?" she asked skeptically.

"It was some kind of cursed staff, until I broke it. Dorkus Malorkus over there picked it up at some kind of Needful Things-type place."

"All right, we'll look into this, young woman who I have absolutely no prior relationship…"

"_aying-lay it on too ick-they…"_ I whispered. "And with that out of way, let's ditch this dump." I chucked my props to the side. "Let's go, your highness."

"Your hi- oh dear, I completely forgot I was still wearing this!"

"Hey, it's not like you don't pull it off."

* * *

**A.N.: Well, this arc is finally over, and the final chapter was almost twice as long as the other two! Honestly, I could have broken it in half so I could get the parts out sooner, but I didn't want to drag it out any longer. The plot points changed a bunch of times before I settled on what I went with; it was originally going to just be a plain showdown with the dragon, but I decided that having Todd be the bad guy, corrupted by the staff, was the twist I needed (plus it gave Sheena a chance to have some of the spotlight for a change. **

**Incidentally, the phony coven that trolled Phoebe was supposed to have been Courtney and Tabitha, the Goth girls from "Craig of the Creek", but I'm trying to cut down on the gratuitous cameos. **

**Wonko: Thanks, it was fun to do. Next arc's gonna be a lot more down-to-earth though.**

**Jose: The girls are going to have to think about a quicker changing method. It's hard for them because it involves not just changing clothing but going through a physical change as well.**

**Next up: Back to the beach!**


	10. Back to the Beach

Chapter 9

Back to the Beach

_One for the Books, Mid July_

_-HELGA-_

So, funny story, it turns out that to do all the stuff you want to do during the summer, you need this thing called money. While I have a fairly substantial college fund thanks to saving Rhonda's life some years back, that's all locked up in a trust and not exactly something I can dip into for the day-to-day stuff. And so, I have been forced to take a part-time summer job.

Of course, it's not like I'm the only one. Phoebe's been interning at Potts' Brothers Demolition, Gerald got a job at the radio station, Nadine's working at Dino Land, Sid's busing tables at El Patio… even Princess Lloyd herself wound up getting a job at a swimwear store at the West Hillwood Mall, though I'm pretty sure she did it mainly for first crack at the merchandise. It certainly wasn't because she needed the money. As for me, I lucked into a job at a bookstore downtown. Doesn't pay much, but on the plus side there aren't a ton of customers because the Internet is a thing, so I have plenty of time to myself and free WiFi to take advantage of. Sometimes it's so slow that I can just take a nap in the back room and nobody notices.

Of course, there is one sale I can count on every day, and that's from my mother. Budnick's department store, where she's a floor manager, is a couple of blocks down the street, so every day on her lunch break she drops in, grabs a random book off the shelf, and buys it to, I dunno, show how supportive she is. It's really unnecessary, but I guess she's trying to make up for how inattentive she was for the first decade of my life. Still, it gets a bit embarrassing sometimes, especially on the occasions when someone else is actually here.

Case in point…

"Mom… seriously… you don't have to come in here and buy a book every day. You've already established how supportive you are and I really, really do appreciate it."

"Oh, honey, I'm not trying to be smothering at all, really. I really did need a book on-" she checked the cover "…how to tell if you have prostate problems. Right," she said, swiftly putting it back, "the one I meant to pick up was – and this is just straight-up hardcore pornography. Who on earth would shelve these next to each other?"

"Beats me. The shelves were like this when I got here. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this place was some kind of money-laundering operation. I mean, who actually goes to these little bookstores besides the occasional hipster?"

"Hmm…. Well, that's food for thought…"

"I mean, it's not necessarily organized crime? It could just be a cult."

"…You know, I'm not sure I'm that comfortable with you working here now."

"No problem. Stinky said I could help out on his uncle's weed farm if I wanted. Probably doesn't pay any better but I hear the fringe benefits are-"

"…then again what's more wholesome than a bookstore?" Miriam interrupted, quickly changing the subject.

"I'm just saying, it _is_ legal in this state…"

"Anyway! That wasn't really my reason for coming in today. Honey, you remember that week we went down to Spenser Beach about six years ago? Well, it just so happens that I have some vacation time coming up, so I rented one of their cabins, just like last time! A few days at the beach, doesn't that sound nice?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Jeez, mom, since when were you into the whole sun and surf thing?"

"Well, I just think that a change of scenery could be nice. This city gets all hot and unpleasant at this time of the year, so, why not go somewhere a little more relaxing?"

"This job actually _is_ pretty relaxing. I'm not sure exactly what it is I need a vacation from."

"Well… isn't your _other_ job pretty stressful?"

"Not really. Being a superhero is actually my stress-reliever."

"Well… I've already booked the cabin, so it's kind of a waste if we don't go. You can bring along a friend if you want… I'm sure Phoebe would appreciate a free vacation weekend, or that other friend of yours, Rolanda…"

I sighed resignedly. "I guess it won't be terrible."

"That's the spirit! Hey, you know what always gets me I the mood for a beach vacation? Shopping for a brand new swimsuit!"

Oh, goody… I get to go shopping for revealing clothing with my _mother_. Every girl's fantasy!

* * *

"Welcome to Bikini Atoll, how may I help you to- Oh, hello, Mrs. Pataki." Rhonda's flat, perfunctory customer service spiel perked up when she realized she was speaking to someone who she would actually have to see again.

"Oh, there's no need for formality, Rolanda," Miriam replied genially. "Feel free to call me Miriam."

"Oh, well, in that case, feel free to call me Rhonda, since Rolanda is _not_ my name."

"Oh. Oh dear. I've been calling you Rolanda for _years_. This is so embarrassing. I'm… I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Really," she assured.

"I must say, you look lovely n that outfit."

Rhonda took a glance down at her green floral-print top and matching sarong combo. "Oh, this? They make us wear these. But thank you! I really didn't think I had the hips to pull off a sarong."

"Oh, you do, dear. Now, do you think you help us find some new swimsuits?"

"Us?"

"Yes, me and—" She looked around. "Helga!"

Nuts. I had _almost_ managed to sneak out of the store while mom was occupied, but it looks like I'm busted. "Oh… you mean _this _is the swimsuit store? I thought it was a real-estate broker selling timeshares on nuclear test sites, and I thought 'wow, that sounds like a terrible investment, I'd better get out of here before I get roped into one of those high-pressure sales pitches…."

"Oh, she's such a kidder. Now, what do you think of this?" She held up a very skimpy pink bikini.

"MOM!" I said, scandalized. "I am _not _wearing that!"

"Actually, I was thinking this would look good on _me_…"

"…oh, my god, Earth, please, just swallow me up where I stand…"

Rhonda put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "I know, I know, I've been here too. Don't worry, Hellcat… I'll take care of you."

* * *

After the most agonizing half-hour of my life (and I have had my entire body rearrange itself, and that's not a fun experience, let me tell you), we finally decided on a pink one-piece for me and a modest (thank the stars) lavender two-piece for mom.

"You know, I really think I could've pulled off the bikini," she insisted. "I mean… I've still got the goods, why not show 'em off?"

"…oh lord… mom, I don't want to hear this…"

"I'm just saying… mama's back on the market. Might as well do some advertising, am I right?"

"Rhonda!" I pleaded. "Please, reconsider! I can't suffer alone like this!"

"I'm really sorry. You know, any other time I would totally have your back, but I'm booked. I have…" she shuddered, "a spider convention to go to."

"Who, really?" I said, smirking, miming a whipping motion.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm whipped, you can say it. Thing is, Nadine really, really wants to introduce me to her bug friends."

"Oh, this is serious. But… aren't you… kinda terrified to death of spiders?"

"No, you're thinking of clowns. I'm honestly not that bothered by spiders anymore. I'm not in _love_ with them, but I _am_ in love with someone who _is_, so, you know, you have to make compromises. Hell, if she wanted to go to a circus convention, I'd probably suck it up and do that too. It's the least I owe her for putting up with my crap." She started ringing us up. "Okay… and, with the employee discount-"

"Oh, dear, you don't have to do that for us," interrupted Mom.

"It's fine, if I don't use it, it just goes to waste anyway. Okay, so, that comes out to… sixty-eight ninety-three."

"Well! Looks like Spencer Beach will have a couple of hotties to deal with, am I right?"

"*groan* Really… is the Earth swallowing me up so much to ask?"

"Helga, couldn't you just ask Phoebe to go with you?" Rhonda asked.

"Pfft… could you imagine _Phoebe_ at the beach?" I scoffed. "Besides, I'd have to surgically remove her from Geraldo to get her away from him for the weekend."

"Couldn't hurt to ask, though, could it?"

"*shrug* I guess… probably a waste of time though…"

* * *

"SURE, I'D LOVE TO GO!"

"WELL, I UNDERSTAND, IT'S OKAY IF IT'S NOT YOUR THING!"

"NO, I SAID I'D LOVE TO GO!"

"I MEAN, I KIND OF FIGURED THAT YOU WOULDN'T, YOU'RE NOT REALLY A VERY OUTDOORSY PERSON…"

"I SAID – HEY, MR. POTTS! COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THE JACKHAMMER OFF FOR A MOMENT?" Phoebe waved frantically at the demolitionist to shut off the noisy machine.

"Oh… sorry, kid," he said. "Go on. Pretend I'm not here."

"Okay, as I was saying… I actually could use a break. I've been working days and spending a lot of my nights trying to get ahead in my studies so I can graduate early next year… I think my mother's getting worried that I may burn myself out. Perhaps a week at the shore would be the perfect tonic to ameliorate a potential crisis of motivation. In fact… I believe I shall learn how to surf."

I raised an eyebrow. "Really?

She huffed. "Yes. That is what people do at the beach, is it not?"

"Well, yeah, I just find it kind of hard to picture you on a surfboard."

"What, just because I'm small and, to use the vernacular… nerdy?"

"And you use phrases like 'to use the vernacular.' Plus… you can _fly_."

"Well… …. That may be true, but I also have a yearning to try new things. Things like surfing."

"You're really serious about this, are you?"

"Yes, I am. I think that, deep down, I yearn to be… _extreme_."

"Okay, settle down, Poochie. Hey, Ernie, you mind if I borrow Phoebe for a few days?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, I mean, you're young, you got things to do, I understand. Just go clear it with my brother Bert in the home office."

I stifled a snicker. "Your brother's name is Bert?"

"Yeah, he's in charge of the books and stuff around here. He always had more of a head for the business end of things, y'know how it is. He's really a stickler for doing everything by the book. Always been a real tightass, even back when we were growing up. You mess up his paperclip collection _one time_…"

"Paperclip collection, huh." I was trying my hardest to keep a straight face. "Did… he ever give you crap for eating cookies in bed?"

"Oh, all the time! I mean, sure, the crumbs get everywhere, but he didn't have to be so uptight about it..."

Okay, I had to drop this line of conversation, or I was going to lose it. "Well… we leave tomorrow, so, be ready."

"I shall. I must say, I'm quite looking forward to this little excursion." She glanced back at Ernie. "So… is your brother rather fond of… pigeons?" she asked with a barely-concealed impish grin. Oh, don't do this to me…

"You know, he _is_," Ernie answered obliviously. "He likes to feed them in the park. There's this one with a missing toe that he calls Bernice…"

"Right, gotta go, see you tomorrow, bye!" I shouted, running off. The minute I got out of range, I let all the laughter that had been building up out.

It felt… good. I honestly don't think I've laughed like that since… since the summer began.

Maybe this whole vacation wouldn't be an ordeal. Maybe it would be kinda fun. I mean, might as well go into this with a positive attitude, right? One time won't kill me.

* * *

**A.N.: And so, the beach arc begins! To that guy who kept hoping for Summer to appear in **_**And You May Ask Yourself, **_**this one's for you.**

**I borrowed the name for the beach town from HumanDictionary's stories. They've also been really helpful in getting a feel for how I'm going to be handling Summer's character in the upcoming chapters. **

**I've been wanting to do the "Ernie and Bert" gag ever since I started writing again, but I've never found a good place use it until now. It's kinda fitting seeing as Arnold did kinda get his start on **_**Sesame Street. **_

**Jose: Was the incantation real, or was it just a prank by a bored Goth couple from Maryland? We may never know.**

**Next up: Dipping Your Toe in the Water**


	11. Dipping your Toe in the Water

Chapter 10

**A.N.: It's admittedly been a while since I've seen "Summer Love" and I was unclear on how old exactly Summer and Sandy were supposed to be. Ultimately, I've settled on them being about 13-14 in the original.**

Dipping your Toe in the Water

_-HELGA-_

The drive down to Spencer Beach was a lot less eventful than the last road trip I took with my mom. No crashing the car into a cornfield, for one. Mom's a lot more cognizant of her surroundings these days. What a difference sobriety makes.

It was also somewhat less awkward, seeing as I had Phoebe along to serve as a buffer. Of course, it wasn't always a positive thing, like when I discovered one particularly shameful secret of Phoebe's…

We had reached the edge of MROK (for some reason, Hillwood is in the one county in the country where radio call letters don't begin with W or K)'s broadcast range and the static was beginning to get annoying. I began to turn the dial looking for something listenable when the opening chords of a certain peppy 80's pop standard began to play. Nightmares of karaoke nights began to play back in my head as I hurriedly turned the dial forward, hoping that Mom hadn't heard –

"Oooh! Go back! Go back! I love that song!"

Resigned to my fate, I complied.

"Oh, I can't believe we caught it right at the beginning. C'mon, sing along, you know the words…"

"Pass."

"Oh, don't be such a grouch. _Friday night, we're gonna party til dawn / Don't worry daddy, I got my favorite dress on…_'"

_Ugh, thanks, I hate it, make it stop…_

And then Phoebe committed the ultimate betrayal of trust. She joined in.

"_Roll into the paty, the boys are lookin' our way / We just keep dancing, we don't care what they say!"_

"Oh, Phoebe, no… not you too…"

The two of them continued in harmony, just driving the knife in further. "_And all the Boys are getting' up in my face, boys are a bore, let's show 'em the door, we're taking over the dance floor!"_

"I don't know you. Either of you. You are strangers to me."

Obvlivious to my misery, my mother and best friend continued to twist the knife in my back. "_Ohhh, girls do what we like, ohhhh, taking over tonight, ohhh, girls do what we like, ohhh, taking over tonight!"_

"_We're queens of the disco!" _I shouted before clamping my hands over my mouth, realizing. Mom gave me a smug aside glance.

Okay, fine, it's a catchy song!

After the second stanza finished, Miriam glanced back at me. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"We will never speak of this moment again." I stated.

"All right…. We don't have to. Knowing that you had fun is all I needed."

"…yeah," I admitted. "But, seriously, we will never speak of this again."

* * *

Spencer Beach hadn't changed much in the six years since I'd been there. It was still the quintessential tourist-trappy beach town with all the amenities you would expect from that kind of place… cabin rentals, businesses selling local crafts and souvenirs to gullible tourists, attractions for the kiddies and bored grownups alike.

Unlike last time, Mom had rented one of the smaller cabins. There were two bedrooms and a kitchenette/dining space (Mom would get one bedroom and Phoebe and I would share the second). With just the three of us, we really wouldn't need much else.

Once we had unpacked and gotten changed, Mom said "Well, I'm sure you girls want to go off and do your own thing. I think I'm going to go check out the town. Why don't we meet for dinner at the Crab Shack later?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said, grabbing a lounge chair and the latest _Cycle of DragonBane_ book, _Crest of Bloodrock. _"I'm gonna go get some sun, load up my 'chillin' on the beach' playlist, and catch up with my favorite barbarian maiden. How 'bout you, Pheebs?"

"Well, I checked the local weather report, and it turns out that climactic conditions should make for optimal surfing weather. Consequentally, I shall be signing up for surfing lessons. There's just one thing I want from you."

"And that is?"

"Come with me so I don't chicken out."

* * *

_-ALEX-_

I'd had been working as Spencer Beach's surf instructor for a year now. I'd always had a love for the sport; it was my way of achieving maximum chill. Chill had always been my way of life. Unfortunately, my last girlfriend had been the exact opposite of chill. Practically every day for five years, all she did was go on and on about how I'd blown her one chance at stardom. At first, I'd gone along with it because that's what you were supposed to do, right? But everyone had a limit, and I'd eventually reached mine. The past had to be let go, and that included her. Hopefully, one day, she would understand and move on.

_Babewatch_ had been cancelled years ago anyway.

Two people had shown up for today's appointment.. One was petite and dark-haired with features that suggested at least partly Asian ancestry. She was cute enough, but it was her companion that really stood out. She was taller, curvier, but not in that soft way my ex was. Hers was a more muscular, athletic build. She looked like her body had been forged out of steel. Her features only contributed to that sense… the eyebrows a bit too heavy, the ears a bit too long and low-hanging, the nose a bit too bumpy, the upper lip a bit too outthrust to really reflect classical beauty. But then, my ex had been a classical beauty, and look how _that_ had turned out. Her face wasn't perfect, but it was _interesting_. Combined with her stance, a defiant pose that suggested that here she was and if the world had a problem with that, it could take a hike, made me want to know more about her. And yet, there was a nagging sensation that somehow, we had already met.

"Welcome to Spencer Beach surf school, wahines," I began. "My name's Alex Shore, I'll be your surf instructor today." I glanced between the two… the smaller one eagerly clutched her rental board, clearly ready for lesson. The other one hadn't rented a board at all…. In fact, she didn't even look like she was dressed for surfing in the first place, with her one-piece, cutoffs, and sunglasses. "I… guess you two plan on sharing the board?"

"Hmm?" the blonde said. "Oh, ignore me, I'm not taking the lesson. I'm just here for moral support."

"Hi!" the dark-haired girl said brightly. "My name is Phoebe, and I've been wanting to learn how to surf for… well, almost a full day now!"

"Oh," I said, trying not too sound too disappointed. "You sure about that? We could totally hook you up with a board…"

"Really, no, surfing's just not for me. I'm really just here to relax and forget about life for a while."

"You never know until you try. If you want, I can comp you on the board and wetsuit rental. You can just try it out, no pressure."

"No, really… it's okay. I don't want to take your attention away from your actual student."

"Oh, I don't mind, Helga," the other girl… Phoebe? …replied. "It'd be nice to have the company."

Helga… what an unusual name, but then, she seemed like an unusual girl… shrugged. "Well, I guess if it's on Keanu's dime, I can roll along with it. Not like my book's going anywhere…"

* * *

As the lesson proceed, an unknown observer watched from her vantage point behind the pier, through the strongest binoculars she could afford at the town's military-surplus store.

It wasn't like she still cared about him, of course… as if. She simply wanted to know what he was up to every minute of the day so she would be able to avoid him. It was simple strategy. It's not like she gave a damn about any of those loser tourists he chatted flirted with every day. They'd all be here today, gone tomorrow, and she'd still be there. She could take him back any time she wanted – not that she wanted to. As if. Who cared about him? What was he calling himself now? Alex? Sandy was a much better name. She'd loved that name ever since she'd first seen Danny Hassenpfeffer play Sandy Sloane in that first episode of Babewatch back when she was ten. She had no idea why Sandy – her Sandy – would want to change it.

Not that he was her Sandy. She totally didn't care about him at all.

The observer watched as Sandy (no, Alex…. Oh, who cares) walked his two students through their poses. He seemed particularly focused on the tall blonde. Figures. He was probably still hung up on her. How pathetic. She tried to get a better look at the blonde's face but someone walked in front just as she turned. No matter. She moved around the pier's mooring to get a better look at-

_HER._

She would know that face anywhere. Sure, its owner was older, taller, a bit more curvy and a bit less ugly, but just the same… it was her. It was the girl who had ruined her life so many years ago. The girl who, with that idiotic football-headed boyfriend of hers, had cheated her out of her one chance at stardom.

And now, she had her devious little hooks in her Sandy. Not that she cared. Sandy could chase after whatever hussy he wanted. It wasn't her problem. But not _her_. Not _her_. She had to draw the line somewhere.

As god was Summer Love's witness, that blonde bitch wasn't getting anywhere near Sandy Shore.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Did you see that, Helga? How great was that?" Phoebe prompted excitedly. The two of us were returning to the surf-rental shack post-lesson.

"I saw!" I replied, grinning in spite of myself. "You were upright for a whole forty-five seconds."

"I know!" responded Phoebe proudly. "I think I'm really getting the hang of this. Maybe tomorrow, I'll actually make it to a wave."

"Yeah. Well, I hope you have fun, 'cause I've fulfilled my friend obligation. This surfing thing is not for me."

"Are you sure? You seemed like you were enjoying yourself."

"Well… it wasn't _that_ bad. Mostly, I think it was just the company."

She smirked at me. "And which company was that?"

"Um… which company would it be?"

"I'm just saying… that instructor _was _pretty easy on the eyes. And he was giving you a lot of attention."

"You're dreaming, Pheebs. No way a guy like that would be interested in me."

"Sure, surf instructors just randomly comp people for lessons and equipment just because."

"Could've been a promotional thing." I said, shrugging.

"Sure," she shot back, rolling her eyes. "He just randomly decided that today, he was going to run a promotion just for you, specifically. Come _on_. Is it really beyond the realm of possibility that someone would find you attractive? You're not exactly as, um, awkward as you used to be."

"It's your imagination. Besides, that guy's too old for me anyway."

"He looked like he was around Harold's age. That's not really that big a gap. It's around the same gap as Torvald and Darcy, and they're a pretty good match."

I shrugged back. "Doesn't matter, really… I've had my last surfing lesson. Tomorrow, the only date I have is with my lounge chair, my earbuds, and a dragon." We handed our surfing ger back to the rental shop and began the walk back across the beach.

"This is about ice cream, isn't it."

"No, it isn't about ice cream…"

"…because, if I remember correctly, you both agreed that during your break, you were okay with each other seeing other, uh, desserts. So, you shouldn't feel like you're betraying ice cream if you have a little fling with, uh… tiramisu."

"Tiramisu?"

"He's very tan."

"Labored metaphor aside, Pheeb, I'm just not there yet."

"How do you know unless you're open to it? It's not a big commitment, Helga… just think of it like dipping your toe in the water, to see if it's the right temperature."

"This is all moot anyway, Pheebs," I said. "Even if I was considering doing that, the fact is that there has to be something there, and I'm pretty sure whatever you thought you saw was all in your he-"

"Hey!" yelled a familiar voice from behind us. Phoebe raised an eyebrow.

"This doesn't mean anything," I insisted. "One of us probably dropped something and he's returning it."

I had to admit, the guy was definitely in good shape. He wasn't the least bit out of breath despite having run all the way from shoreside.

"So… uh… Helga?"

"That's what my dad named me."

"Yeah, so… um… this is a crazy thought, but, like, maybe you and me could hang out?"

"Um…" My eyes darted back and forth. "I'm actually supposed to be doing something with Phoebe… we're um… spider convention…" I panicked.

"Oh, that's okay, I can do something else," Phoebe said. "You two can go have fun." _Traitor._

"All right, cool. We can meet on the boardwalk tomorrow morning at 9. See ya there!" he said as he jogged off.

"What the hell just happened?" I asked. "Did you just agree to me going out on a date with that surf bum?"

"Don't think of it as a date, Helga," Phoebe replied, oblivious to me irritation. "Think of it as.. an experiment."

"An experiment."

"Yes. An experiment. We are going to see how you handle hanging out with a boy who is not Arnold, with no commitment and no expectations. If you can handle that, it'll be a positive sign that your obsession is waning."

"I hate it when you're being logical," I huffed.

* * *

Summer scowled as she watched Sandy jog away. That ugly blonde harpy had her hooks deep in him, she knew it. Probably planning to use him and throw him away. That was Summer's job, dammit.

Just look at her. There was no way those tits were hers. They were way too firm. Summer knew a boob job when she saw one. Shame she didn't get that nose fixed while she was at it.

She followed along from a safe distance as the blonde and that mousy friend of hers departed the beach, shadowing them to the Crab Shack where they met up with what Summer assumed was Blondie's mom for dinner. She cursed herself for passing on the sound amplifier when she'd picked up the binoculars. The store clerk had tried to sell her on it, but she hadn't seen the need for it at the time. It would've come in really handy in this situation. She needed dirt on Blondie, but she couldn't risk getting any closer.

But she knew, just _knew_, that she had some nefarious plan. And as Danny Hassenpfeffer was her witness, she would find out just what it was that Helga Pataki was hiding.

* * *

**A.N.: Like the name of the beach town, Summer's last name is courtesy of HumanDictionary's stories. I figured Alex/Sandy deserved an awful punny name to match hers, so he is officially Alexander "Sandy" Shore. And he ha a very famous cousin, buuuuuuuuddy, but we won't be talking about him.**

**The song the girls are singing early in the chapter is straight from **_**Gravity Falls**_**, and it is just the sort of catchy, mindless 80s pop ditty that Miriam would love and Helga would despise. The writers for the episode ("Scary-oke", 2x1) are listed as Alex Hirsch, Matt Chapman and Jeff Rowe, so I assume one of them is responsible for the lyrics.**

**Jose: That would probably be very cathartic for her, but the Joker is no laughing matter.**

**Next: Helga and Alex's "date", Summer's scheming, and maybe we even check in on Rhonda and Nadine at the spider convention. Maybe something interesting's going on there? Probably not.**


	12. It's Not a Date

Chapter 11

It's Not a Date

_Spencer Beach boardwalk, 8:58 AM_

_-HELGA-_

I should've really just blown this whole thing off, really. I'm not even close to ready to date anyone. On top of that, Alex is too old for me. I'm sixteen, he's gotta be close to twenty. The two of us together is problematic as hell. The only reason I'm even humoring this is the fact that Phoebe put me on the spot yesterday.

Whatever. It's not like I'm putting any effort into this whole thing anyway. I didn't bother doing anything with my appearance. Just khaki shorts, sandals, and a loose-fitting open blue Hawaiian shirt over a tank top. Very gender-neutral. No makeup. Hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sunglasses so he can't be mesmerized by my admittedly dazzling eyes (Hey. I'm allowed a _little _vanity).

Well, it's not like he was here yet. Maybe there was still time to back out of –

"Hey, Helga!"

Aw, nerts.

I turned and forced a smile onto my face. "Alex, hi…"

Oh, lord. Khaki shorts. Blue Hawaiian shirt. Sandals. Sunglasses.

"Oh, hey, cool, check it out, we're twins!" he exclaimed.

"Yeah, how about that," I replied, a bit uncomfortably. It was like some cosmic force wanted to subtly push us together and I wanted none of it. It was that point I decided it was time to lay all my cards on the table and let him know exactly where I was at. "Look," I said, "I'm not sure what you expect from today, but it's probably not what you're going to get."

"Uh, what do you mean?" he asked, seemingly oblivious.

"Well… how old are you, exactly?" I asked.

"Nineteen," he replied. "Gonna turn 20 in October."

"Well," I continued, "I'm sixteen. I can't even drive yet. So, you, me, this… it can't happen."

He shrugged. "Nothing has to happen," he said blithely. "This doesn't have to be anything. We're just two people hanging out. I'm not gonna put any pressure on you or anything."

"Good. I wanted to make that clear. Fact is… I just got out of a long-term relationship, and even though it's over, it kind feels like it might pick up again at some point… and we _kinda_ agreed to be okay about seeing other people, but… I don't know whether I'd be really okay with knowing he was, so I feel like I'd be kind of a hypocrite if I did it myself… it's this whole weird messed up thing and I honestly don't know why I'm blabbing all this crap to you seeing how it's absolutely none of your business." I sighed. "As you can see, I'm kind of a crazy person. You should probably back out now."

He chuckled. "It's okay, dude. Believe me, I know a crazy chick when I see one, and you're nowhere near that."

I cracked a bit of a grin. "'Dude'? I really did nail looking unsexy, didn't I."

He grinned back. "I wouldn't go that far. I just call pretty much everyone 'dude'."

"So… what makes you think _I'm_ not a crazy chick? You don't know me. For all you know, my luggage could be full of human heads."

"Well I used to date a crazy chick. And you're nothing like her."

"There's different kinds of crazy, bucko. What flavor we talkin' about here?"

"Well, this girl was absolutely obsessed with that old show, _Babewatch_…"

"Oh, with Danny Hassenpfeffer and Sam Henderson? I used to love that show. Looking back, it was actually pretty lame. These days, I'm more into stuff involving zombies and dragons. But back then, I guess I just kinda liked the whole beach romance deal. Y'know… funny story… I was actually _on_ that show."

"Really?"

"Yeah, back when I was 10, my ex and I won this sand-castle-building competition – right here on this beach, actually – and the prize was a bit part in a Babewatch episode. Well, he wasn't my ex back then, in fact, on paper, we supposedly couldn't stand each other. It's kinda funny how things work out. Anyway, I had what was supposed to be a non-speaking part as a junior lifeguard trainee and Arnold – that's my ex – was a drowning victim. I was supposed to just sorta look on as DJ gave him mouth-to-mouth, but I kinda had a thing for the guy at the time, not that I'd ever admit it to anyone… and I sorta shoved my way into an iconic screen moment."

While I was going on, he was just sort of staring at me. _Well, if anything'll make him back off, it'll be me being a ranbling lunatic, _I reasoned. "But anyway, I'm probably-"

""Oh, wow… that was you," he suddenly interrupted. "You're that girl!"

"The- oh my god, you're the boyfriend, aren't you."

He chuckled. "Yeah, that was me, back when I was with Summer. I was kind of a jerk back then."

"Yeah, well, a lot of us weren't great people back in the day."

"Wow, you changed a lot. I didn't even recognize you."

"Yeah, I know. I have two very huge changes that you can't exactly miss, can you."

"Um… well, it's not like I was staring…."

"_Doi_. I was talking about my _eyebrows_, dumbass." I retorted, tapping them. "Way to prove your mind's in the gutter."

"I – I didn't-"

"I'm kidding, Keanu! Criminy, lighten up a little!" I said, giving him a gentle slap on the back. Well, the way he winced in pain suggested I hadn't been quite as gentle as I intended. Sometimes, I kind of forget that I do keep a little bit of my strength even when I'm in human mode. "Whoops," I added apologetically. "That wasn't supposed to be that hard."

"You're kind of stronger than most girls I've known," he said, rubbing the sore spot.

"Yeah, I work out a lot," I lied. "Cross-fit, weight training, that sort of thing."

"Oh, well, it shows." He chuckled.

"Well… now that we know who each other are," I asked, "what do we do now?"

"I guess we could just check out the boardwalk," he suggested. "Play some games, ride some rides… and then we could get lunch. I know this place that makes the best fish tacos you ever had."

"You had me at tacos," I replied. "Well, let's get going, Keanu. Time's a'wastin'".

* * *

_-SUMMER-_

Binoculars, check. Newly-purchased sound amplifier, check. I was all set to spy on Sandy and that ugly blond harpy who had sunk her claws into him. They wouldn't do a thing without me being aware of it.

Yes, that bitch wouldn't know what hit h-

"SUMMER!"

"WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU WANT, MOM?!"

"YOU"RE LATE FOR YOUR DOG-WALKING JOB!"

"SO WHAT?!"

"SO IF YOU"RE LATE, YOU'RE GONNA GET FIRED! AGAIN!"

I groaned, trudging down the stairs to the main level, where mom was already where she would probably be for the rest of the day, on the couch, half-smoked cigarette between two fingers, one of those stupid judge shows playing on the TV.

"What do I care? You're the one who keeps signing me up for all these stupid jobs anyway."

"And whose fault is that?" she spat back. "If you'd just gotten that role back then like you were supposed to, we'd be on easy street right now. As it is, you're clearly not going anywhere, so if you intend to keep living under my roof, you'd better start pulling your own weight around here."

"As long as I don't have to pull yours…" I muttered under my breath.

"Just get out and do it. I'm getting sick of you constantly blowing off your responsibilities to do whatever it is you're doing. There aren't any places left in town that'll hire a high-school dropout."

Yeah, there's that. I'd flunked my senior year of high school and going back seemed pretty pointless anyway, seeing as I had no real interest in college beyond the parties anyway, and why bother paying tuition when you could just get in to the parties anyway by looking hot? College boys were always cruising the SB looking for some hot piece of ass, and I certainly qualified.

But mama didn't quite see it like I did. She was all "If you aren't going to school, then you'd better be working." So she kept signing me up for all these stupid jobs instead, of, you know, getting one herself. But hey, why should she have to, right? Daddy's alimony checks (sent from wherever he was plowing that redhead of his) covered everything she needed… rent, food, cigarettes, beer, and cable. Anything I wanted on top of that was my own responsibility.

"Fine," I conceded. "I'll walk the stupid dogs. Happy?"

"Ecstatic. I'm just overjoyed that my lazy, useless daughter is doing the bare minimum expected of her. Lemme alert the media so they can award you Daughter of the Year."

Ha ha, yeah, sarcasm, whatever. Ah, well… could've been worse, right? She'd probably be a nightmare as a stage mom… at least 'til I sued for emancipation, anyway.

* * *

Spencer Beach Furry Friends was a service for all those tourists that were sentimental enough to drag their mutts along with them on vacation but too lazy to be bothered to walk the damn things. And so, here I was being pulled along the boardwalk by half a dozen of the fleabags this fine morning, pausing every three or four second for one of them to take a piss or dump. Hallelujah. At least no one could claim that I wasn't earning my pay. Wasting all this time when I could be doing something constructive, like spying on Sandy and Butterface…

And then fortune smiled on me. I was waiting for Mrs. Borland's schnauzer to finish relieving itself when I saw them coming down the boardwalk. They'd rented rollerblades and were gliding towards me rapidly. The timing couldn't be better.

And so, ever so gently, I let go of my leashes and seven overexcited dogs broke loose and charged the nearest pair of humans.

This was gonna be fun.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Okay," I admitted. "You were right. This does make getting around a lot faster." Alex had suggested renting rollerblades to make cruising the boardwalk a bit more interesting. I'd been resistant at first, but damned if it wasn't working.

"What'd I tell you?" he replied.

"How about we make it even more interesting? Race you to the end of the boardwalk. Loser pays for the tacos."

"Well… I don't wanna brag, but I've been rollerblading pretty much my whole life, so if you think you can beat me, let's go."

"Oh, aren't you confident," I replied, smirking. "Just be warned, back in Hillwood my appetite is legendary. So it's probably in your best interest to win, 'cause I'm an expensive lunch date."

"I thought you said this _wasn't_ a date," he remarked.

"Figure of speech. Didn't mean anything. Um… Right! We're racing! On three! OneTWOTHREE!"

"Hey, no fair!" Alex complained as I pulled off to an early lead.

"All's fair in tacos and war, Keanu," I replied, grinning. "You can still catch up to me, if you try…"

"Hey, do you hear barking?" he asked.

"Ooh, going for the distraction technique, very clever. But I don't fool easi-"

Too late, I heard the barking too, and the next thing I knew, I was knocked flat on my butt by a horde of rampaging furballs. I laid there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened to me, before trying to right myself again.

"Oh, sorry," A voice said, as I was offered a hand. I looked up into a face that I had not seen in over six years.

"Can I help you up?" Summer said with a veneer of congeniality. I could sense that it was only surface level, though. The girl simply oozed phoniness out of every pore. But I was hardly in a position to turn her down… besides, I could just be imagining it. After all, it had been over half a decade and what were the odds she even recognized me?

"Thanks,", I said, accepting the hand up.

"Hey… you okay?" Alex said after managing to navigate the runaway dogs.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said.

"Oh, Sandy!" Summer said brightly. "What a coincidence bumping into you here!"

"Yeah…" he said, looking a bit umcomfortable. "Coincidence…"

"So," she prompted, "Who's your _little_ friend here?" The emphasis on _little_ was definitely intended.

"Oh, uh, this is Helga. And we're not like together or anything, we're just friends."

"Pfft," she scoffed. "Like I care. You wanna hang out with high school girls, that's been me, you, and maybe Chris Hansen."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"Totes. I am like, so over you, you wouldn't believe. I have _so_ much stuff going on right now."

Yeah, somehow, I doubted that. I could spot someone putting up a false front a mile away, having done it myself for so long… in fact, I kind of still do given my secret identity and all. Frankly, though, I didn't want to push the issue with her, since it really didn't gain me anything at all. Instead, I smiled and said "Well, thanks for the hand up. It was nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she said, though she couldn't help but passive-aggressively add, "Have fun sophomore year!"

"I'm a junior!" I corrected unnecessarily. Why was I on the defensive? I have nothing to feel bad about. There's only a three-and-a-half year difference, and I have no romantic intentions anyway.

"Oh, my mistake," she said. "Anyway, I should probably go find those dogs. See you around!"

"Wow, she was a lot more okay with this than I expected," Alex remarked.

"Looks like it," I said. I had a sinking feeling that I hadn't heard the last of the woman, but right at the moment, I was just fine with being wrong about it. "By the way," I said as I copped yet another cheap head start, "the race isn't over yet!"

"Aw man!" he yelled, giving chase.

"Well, stop falling for it so easily!"

* * *

_-SUMMER-_

It took a while to round up all the dogs and finish walking them…. Not that I cared about keeping that job, but I cared about mom lecturing me over getting fired _again_.

With my job out of the way, I was free to shadow Sandy and the underage tramp. If he ran true to form, he'd probably take her to Pepe's Taco stand. It was a small shack with a few tables on the side. Sandy's preferred table was the one right by the palm tree. Right now he and the bitch had stopped to check out a fire-eater about a hundred yards away, which gave me plenty of time to work my magic. "You like fire-eaters, huh?" I muttered to myself. "Well, here's your chance to get in on the act." Jim Lang's Reaper Madness hot sauce. One drop was enough to turn your tongue into a raging inferno. Spiking the table's taco sauce dispenser with half a bottle? Well, let's just say it was going to be entertaining.

Once the deed was done, I took up a spot with good cover and turned on my new sound amplifier, waiting for my victim to come into range. My patience was soon rewarded.

* * *

-HELGA-

"…no way you could've beaten me in a fair race," Sandy protested.

"Well, _doi_, why did you think I cheated, Keanu?" I stepped to the counter. "I'll take two of your three-taco combos, please and thank you." I nodded back to Alex. "And he probably wants something too."

"…seriously?" he asked.

"I did warn you."

Once I convinced Alex that yes, I did intend to eat all the tacos and he finally ordered something, we collected our food and walked back to the table. "Do you always eat like this?" he asked. "Where do you put it all? Do you have an extra stomach?"

"Two, actually," I answered, deadpan.

"…you're kidding, right?"

"Duh, of course I'm kidding! What kind of person has three stomachs? No, I just have a really high metabolism. It's not like I'm some kind of, heh heh, weird mutant or anything…"

"You ever seen one? A mutant, I mean?"

"Um, no… no, not really, I mean, I've seen videos online and sometimes I see one flying overhead, but not in person, anyway, though I hear that pink one's really pretty… kinda looks like that blonde chick from iCarly but with more parts… **[A.N.: yeah, I would totally cast Jeanette McCurdy as an older Helga in a live-action Hey Arnold.] **Anyway, who cares about that. Let's talk about other stuff." I squirted a bit of hot sauce into my taco. For a second, I thought I heard someone giggling. Oh well, it was probably not related to anything I was doing.

"Okay, so… how's life in the big city?"

"It's, you know, big. Lots of people, lots of places," I paused to take a bite, "everything's re- oh… oh that's hot." Hot was putting it mildly. My mouth felt like it had spontaneously gone nuclear.

"Really? Sure it has a little kick, but I've nev-"

"HOT!" I said, feeling myself breaking into a sweat. I tried to say more but the words would not come. Just pain and burning and pain and burning and also pain and did I mention burning?

"Okay! I'll get you some milk! That should help…" He went back to the stand to pour some but I just couldn't wait anymore. I lunged for it and just chugged as much of the carton as I could without getting sick. The afterglow finally began to cool, though it would be a while before I could taste anything.

"Criminy," I gasped. "What do they make that shit out of, lava?"

"I don't get it," he said. "Pepe's sauce is never that hot."

"Then either you have no taste buds or he picked today to experiment with making people sick." I grabbed the sauce dispenser from the table and slammed it on the counter. "Hey! Is this how you get your kicks or something?"

"Pepe would never do such a thing!" the proprietor declared proudly.

"Well, all I know is your sauce nearly killed me!"

The owner sniffed the bottle. "No," he said. "This is not Pepe's sauce. Some one has tampered with it."

"Who would-" This time, I could definitely hear laughter. It was coming from behind some garbage cans. I had a sneaking suspicion exactly who I was going to find behind them.

"Helga, I'm really sorry-"

"Not your fault," I said. "But I think I know whose it is." I approached the garbage cans and flung one aside. "So… is this what you meant when you had 'so much stuff going on'?"

To her credit, the probably-out-of-a-bottle blonde was unflustered. "Okay, fine, you caught me. I'm behind some garbage cans laughing at something that was really funny. Slap the cuffs on me."

"So you had absolutely nothing to do with this?" I asked.

"Maybe, maybe not," she said with a smirk. "Unless you can prove otherwise, I'd just back away right now and go back to kindergarten. But you can't."

My eye fell on something sticking out of her pocket. "Oh, really?" I asked, yanking it out before she could react. "'Jim Lang's Reaper Madness'. Well, I can't fault you on your taste. This stuff got five mushroom clouds on rankthesauce dot com. And speaking from experience, great for pranks."

"Babe," Alex said, looking disappointedly at Summer.

"H-hey!" she protested. "I'm just looking out for you, okay? Sure, she may act all nice and charming now, and maybe she looks a little better, but this is the same little _brat_ who cheated us out of our chance to be on _Babewatch_!"

"I know," Alex replied. "She told me. But I think she's changed. I was kind of hoping you'd finally changed too, but I guess I was wrong."

"I don't get why you're so hung up on it anyway," I said. "The show got cancelled less than a year later, anyway. It's dead. Get over it."

"Not true! I heard rumors that they're gonna do a TV movie that'll wrap up all the loose ends!"

"Pfft, yeah, like that'll ever happen. C'mon, Alex… let's get some ice cream. I need to get myself cooled down."

"Sounds like a good idea. And, Summer? I really hope one day you'll be able to move past this."

"She's evil, Sandy! You may not see it, but she's evil! And I'm gonna prove it!"

Yeah… this probably wasn't over. I'd have to stay on my toes.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, the tables sure have turned, haven't they? I kinda love this whole situation with Summer in the position Helga was years ago. I threw in the scene with her mom because I was starting to worry that she went a little too cartoonishly evil, so I wanted to show how she may have become the person she is, with a mom that makes Big Bob look pleasant and a deadbeat dad.**

**Penguin Lord: Yep, that's the idea here.**

**Jose: I wanted a funny-sounding name that kinda sounded like "Hasselhoff". Rhonda has tangled with Bill Cipher in the past (admittedly at a minuscule fraction of his peak power), and he isn't exactly a slouch, so she's handled crazy, unpredictable types before.**

**Next: I'm sure Summer's cooking up more schemes, but will she stumble upon Helga's ultimate secret? Stay tuned!**


	13. Other Options

Chapter 12

Another Option

_Space_

_Oso wouldn't have bothered to come to this backwater system, but the particle trail he'd been following had decisively led here. The holy grail of a space-dragon hunter was to land the head of a Ka'Thaari dragon, but it had been widely believed that they'd been extinct, with reports of the last known one being killed decades ago. Rumors abounded, though, that fragments of the Ka'Thaari homeworld had made their way to a remote star system located in the Orion spiral arm of the Milky Way Galaxy (actually, he had no idea that's what they were called, but, for convenience's sake, we'll be using those names), and of the possibility that Ka'Thaari spores had survived intact on the fragment and would infect some of the local monkeys, producing a fresh specimen of prey for him._

_Most didn't believe the rumors, but Oso had never been one to dismiss anything that could potentially lead to a score, and so he'd set off to the Orion sector to see if he could pick up any traces of matter of Ka'Thaari origin. After some time fruitlessly chasing wild hunches, he finally stumbled upon minute traces of dust that registered a Ka'Thaari signature. The signature had badly degraded, as if the fragment had passed through thousands of cycles ago, but there was still enough left to follow. Which was how Oso had come to locate this particular nowhere star. _

_He brought up his craft's information screen, linking it to the Irken Database. After a brief search, it displayed the results found for the system. Eight planets, only one inhabited. The dominant species was some kind of hairless ape of marginal intelligence. A primitive species that had barely made it to their own moon. The dragons would grow fat and torpid over such easy prey and probably make for much easier prey themselves._

_Smiling in anticipation of what he would find, he began his approach…_

* * *

_-HELGA-_

The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful. After ice cream, we continued to check out the boardwalk and talk about incidentals, nothing particularly personal or revealing. Oh, and I weathered a few more pathetic attempts by Summer to derail us. Nothing approaching the cleverness of the hot sauce incident from earlier. She even resorted to dropping a banana peel in my path at one point. Frankly? I was kid of disappointed. If you're going to try wrecking a date, you should at least put some real effort into it. Not this amateur hour garbage. I was even tempted to take her aside and give her a few pointers. There's nothing worse than squandered potential.

As the afternoon wore to a close, I was ready to call it. "Well, it's been a gas," I said, "but I think I've had about enough for one day."

"Actually… there's kinda something I've been meaning to ask you. There's gonna be a bonfire tonight on the beach, and I was wondering if you'd like to come?"

Ugh. No. This was supposed to be a one-and-done. I thought he'd have gotten the hint, but apparently I am just so irresistible that he can't help but try. "Look… I know we're getting along pretty well here, but I thought I made it clear that this wasn't going to be a romantic thing. It's probably best if we just end it now and don't push it any further. I'm gonna be leaving tomorrow anyway."

"Well, cool, I guess… I just thought it would be fun… there'll be hot dogs, there's some bands playing,… you can bring your friend too if you're worried about being alone."

"Mmmm… I'll think about it. You wouldn't happen to know what bands were playing, would you?"

"Not really, but I think there were some signs posted around here somewhere, why don't you check those out? Laters, dude!"

"Yeah, catch ya on the flip-flop." Oh, criminy, did I actually just say that? This beach air must be killing my brain cells.

With the afternoon not-date over, I had some thinking to do. I really, really didn't want Alex to get the idea that I was into him at all or anything, but the whole bonfire thing sounded pretty fun, and it would suck to miss out on that just because I was avoiding someone. Then again, he had suggested bringing Phoebe, so, really, it was just a bunch of friends who happened to all be at the same place.

Seemed like logical reasoning to me. But it wouldn't hurt to get an outside opinion, would it?

* * *

_Tripleshrub Hotel, Hillwood_

_-RHONDA-_

"Well… I had my doubts when I saw the giant papier-mache Brown Recluse out front… but I must say, you are doing a lot better than I thought you would," Nadine assured me.

"Well, thanks." I said.

"Now, could you please stop squeezing my hand? It's starting to do some serious damage."

"Oh. Sorry." I hadn't even realized I was squeezing it so tight. "Well, I guess that's everything…"

"We haven't even gone inside yet," Nadine reminded me. "I promise none of the spiders in there are going to be this big."

"Oh… right… yeah, I suppose inside is where we should be. I just hope I'm not dressed too casually…"

Nadine raised her eyebrow. "You're kidding, right? You look like you're going to a runway show."

"Hey, I'll have you know Tammy Hofstedder is a third-tier designer at _best_. If that isn't casual, I don't know what is."

"Oh, sweetheart, one of these days we're going to teach you how to dress down. Now, c'mon, I want to show my girl off."

"This is it, huh. I'm the trophy girl now."

"You knew what this was when you signed up for it, Sparks." She pulled me along into the motel's lobby, where a teen in a floral dress and matching hijab held a clipboard.

"CarapacerXY?" asked Nadine.

The girl brightened. "That's me! Though my friends call me Azra. And you are…"

"ColeopTerror… or Nadine IRL. And this is Rhonda."

"Hi," I said, holding out my hand. "I, uh, I don't have a bug name."

"Oh… so this is the infamous Rhonda," Azra said, grinning.

"That would be me," I confirmed. "Love the scarf, Btdubs."

"Oh, thanks…. I made it myself."

"Wow, really? It looks very professional."

"Oh, well, I actually sell them online."

"That's so cool. You know, I do a fashion podcast. Do you think you'd be interested in doing an episode on your work?"

"That'd be great, actually…"

"See?" Nadine said. "You were so worried about fitting in, and you've already made a friend!"

"I wasn't worried. When was I worried? I'm never worried."

"Mmm-hmm," she teased. We strolled to the main ballroom while she was scanning the itinerary Azra gave her. "Okay, looks like there's a short reception in the main room, and then there's the first panel on Australian spider species…" She glanced back. "You don't have to stay for the panels if you don't want. The hotel has a spa, if that's more your thing…"

"Hmm… well, it has been nearly five days since my last seaweed wr- no, no, I promised I'd make more of an effort to explore your interests, so… yeah, I think I can handle a spider lecture."

"Okay, I'm just saying, I know you're probably going to be really bored, and I don't hold that against you."

"I'll just close my eyes and think of Paris."

"Is that what you usually do when I go on about stuff?" she retorted. I was going to come up with a response but was gut off when my phone went off. _Bitch _by Meredith Brooks. "Huh. Wonder what Helga wants…" I answered. "Hey, bitch."

"_Are you still using that ringtone for me? Remind me to punch you sometime._"

"Oh, you're flattered and you know it. Watcha want?"

"_Well, I was wondering if I could get some advice… If a guy asks you to go to some big gathering, is that a date?"_

"Depends… do you want it to be a date?"

"_Not really, no, he's too old for me and not really my type at all_."

"Then I don't really see what you're worried about. It's not some kind of betrayal of Arnold to have fun… in fact, if I had to guess, I think he'd be more upset if you didn't."

"_I mean, like… I know that on some level-"_

"…and yet here you are trying to get my approval for some reason. Hellcat, you know what you want to do already so stop second-guessing yourself and just go and have fun. Okay?"

"_I just feel like I'm about to turn a corner and I'm scared of what that means for me and Arnold._"

"Helga… if what you two have isn't strong enough to withstand a… what exactly are we talking about here?"

"_Beach party_."

"…one of those, then it wasn't that strong in the first place. Do you believe that?'

"_Well, no…_"

"Good There you go. This conversation never needed to happen."

"_Criminy, Princess, you're in an awful hurry to get rid of me…_"

"Well, I am kind of on a date at the moment, not to mention in a public place, so if it seems that way, it's probably because of that. But you can totally tell me all about it when we come back, okay?" I disconnected. "Sorry about that. I'm all yours for the rest of the night, sweetheart."

"It's fine. Really. I know you have the whole 'special bond' thing going with her and everything…"

"Yes, I do, and yes, it's never going away, but you're always #1 in my heart. Both of them."

"….it _is_ nice to hear that once in a while…" She gave me an impulsive little squeeze. "I think I'll keep you. For now."

* * *

_Spencer Beach, that night_

_-HELGA-_

The night couldn't have been more perfect for a beach party if the Beach Gods themselves had come down from on high and declared it so. It was warm but not unpleasantly so, and the ocean air was blowing in from the west adding a refreshing salty tang and pleasant chill. The bonfire was already going, and it looked like the first band was in the process of tuning up. It was almost like a very stripped down Burning Man, and the local freaks were out in full force, many of them no doubt every bit as blazed as the effigy on display.

"So," I prodded Phoebe, "you wouldn't happen to know what bands are playing this thing, would you?"

"A bunch of bands I never heard of. SCAB, Dead Lazarus, Raid on Bungling Bay, DJ Grey Matter…"

"Huh, that last one seems familiar for some reason. I have no idea why."

"*shrug* Well, it's not as if I'm particularly knowledgeable about the indie music scene. I just know if I like it when I hear it."

"Seriously, I feel like I'm this close to making the connection, but it's just out of-"

"Hey."

At the sound of the deep voice behind me, I felt my elbow snapping backward of its own accord, conditioned by years of muscle memory. Only this time, my wrist was caught.

I turned to face my unexpected acquaintance. "Old habits die hard, eh?" he said.

"I could say the same. How long's it been since you snuck up on me, Brainy?"

I hadn't seen him much since fate and redistricting had sent us to different high schools, though he still turned up here and there at parties. He'd changed a lot since our PS118 days… for one, he was tall. Taller than Stinky, even. He was also pretty damn good-looking. Not, like, Hollywood good-looking or anything like that, but certainly not too shabby by any means.

"Be honest… you kinda miss me always being underfoot, don't you." He commented, smirking.

I rolled my eyes. "You know what else is always underfoot? Toe fungus."

"Ouch. That hurts, Helga. That really hurts. Here I thought we had a connection all this time. Hey, Phoebe."

"Oh, don't let me get in the way," my companion said. "Pretend I'm not here." She backed away into the crowd.

"My knuckles certainly connected with your nose a whole lot, didn't they. Wow, look at you, though. How have the Sonics not recruited you yet? You're a freakin' giant!"

"Yeah, funny thing about that, you actually have to be good at sports. That's not something I can say about myself. Not in any sense of the word."

"Pity. So, um… weird that we're both here this particular night, huh?"

"Well, not so weird for me. I'm going on after Raid on Bungling bay."

I snapped my fingers. "That's it! DJ Grey Matter is you!" Doi. Brainy. Grey Matter. I must be slipping.

He raised his hands in mock-surrender. "You got me. Really been honing those detective skills, haven't you?'

"Well, ya gotta in my line of work, you know? You can't just rely on being able to chuck cars around."

"Hey. You should really check out my set later! I'm debuting my Temper mix."

"Your what now?"

"Basically, I sampled a bunch of sounds from media clips of you, combined with lots of other samples from different heroic themes. Avengers, Star Wars, The Abdicator, that sort of thing. It turns out you're my muse."

I blushed. "That's, um… that's kind of surprising, considering that you're over me."

"Who said I was over you? I stepped aside because I knew you'd never feel the same way about me that you do about him, but I never 'got over you'. You're actually a surprisingly hard woman to get over."

"You know… funny thing about that… I actually am kinda sorta… taking a break from Arnold…"

"You are?"

Oh, crap! I didn't have to tell him that! Why did I tell him that? What the heck is happening here?

"Yeah… I kinda had this feeling that I was becoming too clingy, so I decided that we should… not _break up_, but put things on hold for a while while he's out of the country?"

"Still, I guess you're not interested in seeing other people, though, are you?"

"Well… we kinda came to a mutual decision that while we weren't going to be actively looking to see other people, we wouldn't hold it against each other if that just happened to happen…" Oh my god, _shutup shutup shutup! _How are these words coming out of me? Why does he have to be so good-looking and nice and charming and not the weird little creep he was six years ago? This would be so much easier if I could just deck him over my shoulder like I used to back in the day, but criminy help me, I think I actually might be maybe a little…

My train of thought was blissfully interrupted by the first band starting up. They were okay… a pretty generic metal sound, really. I was just grateful to have something other than my romantic status to think about.

"So, what do you think about these guys?" asked Brainy, shouting over the loud music. "I like to get an idea about the competition."

"They're okay," I said. "KInda cookie-cutter in the sound department, but it's got a good beat and you can slam-dance to it."

"I hear this guy is actually supposed to be a lyrical genius. Word is he wrote a rock opera about the life of Franz Kafka when we was twelve or something like that."

"That's kinda cool. Too bad I can't actually make out any of his lyrics."

"Yeah, I know. He'd really benefit from a more melodic approach." He shrugged. "Well, I have a lot of stuff to set up, but it was really great getting to sneak up on you again!"

"Yeah, well… it was… kinda great getting sneaked up on."

"Hey… crazy thought… maybe we could meet up later?"

"Yeah… yeah, that would be cool!"

"All right… see you around, Helga!"

…interested.

_Fuck. _I am not ready to be interested in a guy again! And yet… it felt weirdly right that we somehow reconnected here, of all places.

_I had a lot to think about._

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Summer had been shadowing Helga and her mousy companion since the moment the two arrived at the party. She had hoped to stick close until the perfect moment to sabotage her, but fate had intervened; it seemed like she was a lot more interested in the tall guy with the glasses. Forget Sandy… if she wanted to get back at the Pataki girl, this new guy was definitely her real ticket.

Now all she needed was a plan…

* * *

**A.N. Surprise! This isn't a Helga/Alex/Summer triangle at all! I've known I was going to have Brainy become a romantic option for Helga at some point during the story, and I figured, well, why not here? Alex was sort of a red herring in that regard, I admit, but let's face it, there's no chemistry there. But yes, we will definitely be seeing a lot more of Brainy.**

**Scab and its lead guitarist who wrote a Franz Kafka rock opera are a reference to one of my favorite shows, **_**Home Movies**_**, and "Raid on Bungeling Bay" is a sort of oblique reference to "Clash at Demonhead" from **_**Scott Pilgrim.**_

**As for the mystery alien hunter at the beginning of the chapter, he won't be showing up for a while yet, I'm just setting up something for later. It kinda has been a while since any of our girls got into any real badass superhero fights.**

**Jose: Yeah, hot sauce heat is chemical rather than temperate. Though, oddly, the girls have trouble tasting capsaicin in their powered form… it can still wreak having on their digestive systems, though. It's even worse since they're not really aware of how much they're taking in until it's too late.**

**Next: What does Summer have planned, and does it have any connection with the fact that she's recently seen the movie **_**Misery**_**?**


	14. Kind of Like Misery But Not Really

**A.N.: Hey, everyone, it's been a while. The fact is, I've been wrestling with how to end this arc, and also I don't know if you've noticed but there's some stuff going down right now. Hope everyone out there's staying safe and healthy.**

Chapter 13

It's Kinda Like Misery Except Not Really

_-BRIAN-_

Well, that had been a pleasant surprise.

I hadn't expected to see Helga here. Truth told, I'd barely even thought of her for quite some time; I mean, it's not as though I don't have a life and friends of my own at West Hillwood High. It's not as though I'd been a monk, either. I'd certainly dated my fair share over the years. And yet… the sight of her somehow managed to bring it all back. Those years lurking behind her, listening to her poetic ramblings, catching a fist in the face when she became aware of my presence… at one point I actually started to get kind of twitchy when I _didn't_ get punched in the face. I'm sure there are some psychologists out there that would probably get a few dozen papers out of that kind of complex.

Anyway, I'm hardly that guy any more… for one thing, these days I can actually carry on a conversation with people instead of mumbling the odd word or two. And… was it just me, or was Helga actually a bit receptive back there? When I went over to see her, I had no illusion that she was going to immediately forget about Arnold and fall madly in love with me, but… she seemed genuinely happy to see and talked to me, and with Arnold temporarily out of the picture, and her apparently free to date, suddenly, there was hope.

And so, today, I was determined to make my set the best it could be. Today, I would be playing for hundreds, but I'd be playing _to_ an audience of one.

It would be a while until that set, though. Until then, I had setup and equipment checks to take care of. It would do no good to impress Helga if my setup was anything less than perfect.

There was so much to set up… the mixing boards, the turntables, the woofers and subwoofers and other, more specialized equipment that I'd cobbled together out of gaming console sound cards. They had to be assembled in a fairly specific manner, or that sound would just not be optimal.

I was halfway done when I realized that one of the pieces, a card from a Game Guy Deluxe, was missing. I could definitely remember packing it. Had it fallen out of the box? I suppose I could go on without it, but everything had to be perfect.

Maybe retracing my steps would help? I tried to remember the path I'd taken while carrying the box. After several minutes of that, though, I was getting nowhere.

"Hey!" Someone was trying to get my attention. I looked up. A woman in a crew shirt and cap was trying to wave me down. I waved back to make sure it was me she was looking for. She nodded and waved me over. She had a deep tan and pale hair that spoke of a lifetime of beachside living. "You the DJ?" she asked.

"That's right," I confirmed.

"Right," she said. "Somebody turned in a circuit board at the lost and found. That's not the sort of thing you usually find lying around at the beach, so I figured that one of the performers brought it, and you seem like the most likely."

"You're right, I _am_ missing a circuit board."

"Great! Come with me." She beckoned me to follow her. Soon, we had arrived at a shack far up the beach.

"The lost and found is over _here_?" I asked, suddenly a bit skeptical. "Seems a bit out of the way."

"Hey, I didn't choose it," she said, opening the door and beckoning me in. "The lost and found is that box over there," she said, indicating a box in the corner. I walked over and bent down to take a look inside.

"I think there's been a mistake. There's nothing in here but old T-sh-"

***WHAM***

* * *

I awoke in a haze of pain. Opening my eyes was no help; everything was a dark blue (probably because my glasses were gone). As the events that had brought me to this point began to reassemble themselves into a coherent image, I cursed myself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. Then again… I really had no reason to suspect some random crewperson of foul play, did I?

Okay, so… the crewperson (probably a fake) knocked me out and probably left me. What she had against me was anyone's guess; I'm pretty sure I've never seen her before in my life. A check of my pockets confirmed that she'd thought ahead enough to take everything I had, including my phone. Lord knows she couldn't have made it easy.

Well, at least she hadn't tied me up. I could move around freely, though standing up was a big mistake. I was forced to lean against the corrugated aluminum wall to steady myself. I remembered that the shack the phony crewperson had led me to had aluminum walls… unless she'd decided to drag my to a similar shack after knocking me out, I was probably still in the same place.

In any case, with my vision worthless at the moment, I had little recompense but to feel my way around the walls. Hopefully, I'd find the door or a light switch or…

*CRUNCH*

…my glasses. Lovely. Now, I was definitely blind for the foreseeable future. With nothing better to do at this point, I continued trying to feel my way around the room, eventually coming to the door. Locked. From the outside. Of course. No way it could be that easy. Compounding my bad luck, it turned out that there was a light switch, but it didn't work. So this was how it felt to be Eugene.

Nope, I was stuck here, until someone, be it my captor or a rescuer, found me. Once again, I was confused as to why anyone would bother attacking me. I didn't have any rivals among tonight's other acts as far as I know. I barely even knew most of them. And I certainly don't remember ever meeting the mystery crewperson before tonight, so I had no idea why she in particular would bear any sort of grudge against me. Maybe she was just some random lunatic. Maybe she just arbitrarily picked me out of the crowd. Or maybe this was some kind of Misery situation, she was a deranged fan and intended to keep me as a trophy. I wasn't exactly a superstar, but I'd played a few clubs and it was entirely possible someone in the crowd latched onto me… I'd certainly had my share of disturbing comments on my social media page.

Not that it mattered what her motivation is, it all just ended up with me locked away in here until something happened. I slumped against what I'd determined was the farthest corner from the door. Nothing to do now but await whatever came next.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"So, this gnarly pounder is coming towards me, and I'm like, whoa, I gotta get a piece of this, right? But some grom cuts me off and I'm like, bogus, that was my wave!"

I snickered. "Well, if nothing else, you've definitely got the lingo down, Pheebs."

Phoebe giggled. "Why, thank you, Helga, I'm rather proud of it." She leaned in conspiratorially. "Soooo… how'd it go with Brainy?"

My eyes narrowed. "Are you implying something?"

She grinned back impishly. "Implying? Who's implying? Certainly not I. Nor am I inferring, alluding, or suggesting. I am merely asking a simple question so that I can obtain the information I require as to derive an informed conclusion as to whether you have a raging passion for your ex-stalker."

"You know, sometimes, I miss the days when you were my submissive lackey." I sighed. "Look, all that happened was that we caught up with each other a bit about what's been going on in our lives since high school. No, raging passion is not on the menu, I'm afraid."

"Still, you must admit he's a lot cuter these days, isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," I said before catching myself.

"AHA!" Phoebe declared triumphantly. "You HAVE noticed!"

"Well, yeah!" I protested. "So, he's gotten good-looking in kind of a geeky way! I'm not _blind_, Phoebe, I do notice these things! It's not like it _means_ anything, though!"

"I suppose not."

"I mean, it's not as though he asked me out or anything. I've seen him maybe three or four times in the last two years. He probably got over me a long time ago."

"So you _have_ thought about him asking you out."

"What? No, of course not! I barely even thought of him until he suddenly turned up. Being asked out by Brainy is pretty much the last thing on my mind."

"But… hypothetically… on the off-chance that he did…"

I opened my mouth to vehemently deny the possibility that I would ever even entertain such a preposterous thought. Me and Brainy? The guy who creeped on me from preschool straight on through fifth grade? Ha! The very notion! I mean, sure, he'd grown up tall and handsome and witty and talented and he'd composed music in my honor and Arnold and I had made it clear that dating other people was not off the table and it would certainly be a very lonely year without him and…

_Uhhhh boy_.

"…I don't know." I admitted. "Part of me still feels like I'd be betraying Arnold, but… I would be lying if I said I'd definitely absolutely positively say no."

Phoebe gasped. "Why, Helga… I do believe this is the first time you've even considered the possibility of an alternative to Arnold."

"I know… I'm shocked too. Can't believe that a month and a half ago I was undergoing a full Blue Screen of Death and now…" I sighed again. "It's not shallow of me, is it? Arnold was supposed to be my soul mate. Deep down… I still believe that. But is he really if I can move on? So easily?"

"Perhaps if you didn't think of it as moving on. Perhaps you should view it as similar to your date-"

"Not a date."

"-with that Alex guy. Just… an experiment."

"Yeah.' I reasoned. "It doesn't have to mean anything. It'd be casual. Totally casual."

"There you go. No reason to feel any guilty about it."

"Yeah." Of course, talking about it was cheap. There still was the question of how I'd react if he really did try to make a play for me. Would I say yes? Bolt? Revert to form and deck him? No way of knowing until it actually happened. _If_ it actually happened. It was entirely possible he had no romantic interest in me remaining at all.

Was that a twinge of regret at the thought?

"This band's pretty good," Phoebe remarked, possibly sensing my conflicted thoughts and seeking to change the subject to keep me from crawling back up my own ass. She's always been really good at knowing when to do that sort of thing. "I'm not really up-to-date on alternative music, but I know what I like."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Kind of a cross between Paramore and Evanesce. That lead singer's got a really smooth voice." For the moment, I decided to lose myself in the music. It was pretty easy. Raid on Bungling Bay hit every one of my sweet spots. Loud, but not cacophonic, with a heavy emphasis on melody, lyrics that were thought-provoking and pulled no punches. I made a mental note to check if there was anything of theirs on Soundify that I could download later.

After some time, their set drew to a close. Brainy was supposed to be next. _He wrote a song for you, _the annoying part of my brain reminded me. _That's not something someone who's "over you" does. _

_Not for me, for Temper, _I reasoned back. _It's not an unheard of thing for people to dedicate art to superheroes. There's a ton of merch of me out there. Merch that I don't see a penny from, _I groused internally. I wonder if a superhero can sue without revealing my identity.

"Attention," the MC announced after Raid's set had ended. "There will be a fifteen-minute intermission before the next act."

"Well, looks like we've got some time. Wanna hit the hot dog stand before the next set?" I asked Phoebe.

"Well… I normally try to avoid processed meats, but… oh, what the hell." She fell into step alongside me as we approached the vendor. "You know… it's funny. This whole thing started with that Alex guy, but I don't think I've seen him all night."

"Yeah, it is weird… the only reason I even came to this thing was because he invited me, but I've barely given him a thought." I shrugged. "I hope the guy isn't too broken up about me ignoring him all night."

"Hmmm…", mulled Phoebe, her eyes fixing on a point to the left of the stand. "I suspect he'll be just fine."

My eyes shifted over to where Phoebe was focused…. Specifically, on Alex playing tonsil-hockey with the girl running the funnel cake stand.

"…huh." I remarked flatly. "You know, I should probably feel insulted, but… I probably would've had to have had some feelings for the guy in the first place. I can't be cheated on if I was never emotionally engaged in the first place." I turned away. "I don't even feel a need to tell him off. That would require caring."

"That's… quite mature of you." Phoebe commented.

"Ugh… there's that word again."

So, yeah, so ended the great Helga Pataki/Alex Whateverthehellhislastnamewas affair. Not with a bang but with a whatever. The only consequence was that I was off funnel cakes for the foreseeable future.

The two of us got our dogs and took refuge at the nearby picnic tables, to consume them. My mind once again began to drift, mostly to anticipation of Brainy's set. And that was surprising because I freakin' hate that kind of music. Dubstep, electronica, techno… it's all crap as far as I was concerned. But now, I was really looking forward to it.

_He's an old friend, _I reasoned to myself. _Of course I want to hear what he's been up to. It's not a sign of anything deeper. _

Right, right.

So why does he keep drifting into my thoughts?

And speaking of unwelcome intrusions, there was Summer approaching us. No doubt she's got some other clumsy scheme to mess with me. It was past time to put an end to this. I got up and approached her.

"Hey," I said. "You win. He's all yours. Of course, you might have to get in line, since it seems he's sampling the funnel cake girl right about now…."

She glared back at me. "Oh, you think that's what this is all about?" she retorted coldly. "You think I care about him? That guy cheated on me all the time. Oh, sure, he's got the whole Zen Nice Guy act down pat these days, but believe me, it doesn't stop him from getting around."

I suspected that she wasn't quite as over him as she acted… I've always been really good at reading body language, and hers practically screamed denial, but whatever she wanted to tell herself was fine. I was out of here tomorrow anyway, so who cared? "So… this is all because I beat you out for that stupid Babewatch cameo six years ago?"

"You're damn right it is. That was my ticket out of this shithole. You know why tourists love Spencer Beach? Because they don't have to _live_ here. They drop in for a couple of days, have their fun, and go back to their lives. They don't have to deal with living in a place that turns into a graveyard two-thirds of the year. That cameo was my ticket out of this dead-end burg, and you and your boyfriend with the freakish head took that way from me. And then you got to move on, while I got to stay here and _rot_."

Involuntarily, a pang of guilt gnawed at my conscience. Arnold's fault, probably… It was inevitable that at least some of that irritating boundless empathy of his would seep through my carefully-constructed shell of cynicism and force me, involuntarily of course, to see the other side of the story. Damned inconvenient, that. Still… no way I was going to show any weakness to her. "Hey," I protested. "Nobody _made _you pull that scheme of yours. Playing with Arnold's emotions, manipulating him into winning your contest, breaking his heart when you got what you wanted… that was all _you_, sister."

"Yeah, wel-" Her response was cut off by her celphone ringing. "Oh… that must be the crew boss calling me," she said nervously. Made sense… she was wearing a crew T-shirt and cap. "Bored of this conversation anyway," she added. "Anyway, I already got what I wanted. I ruined your vacation. Good luck with the new guy," she said with a smirk as she hurried off.

_Well, that ended weirdly_, I thought to myself as she left. Well, at least she felt she was satisfied in getting whatever revenge she felt she'd earned, which meant I'd never have to deal with her again. That was fine by me.

What was that remark about "the new guy," though? Had she seen me talking to Brainy earlier? Had she picked up some kind of interest on my part?

And if it was so obvious to _her_… then could I really keep denying that it was obvious to me?

Oh, criminy… Arnold's gone for a month and a half and I'm still an emotional basket case.

My thoughts were interrupted by the squeal of a microphone. Speak of the devil… it was finally time for Brainy's set. Good, it felt like it had been forever. This was the longest fifteen-minute intermission ever.

"Attention," the MC announced. "We're sorry, but there will be a slight delay before the next act, as we are unable to locate DJ Grey Matter. We have been attempting to contact him, but he isn't answering his cell or texts. I'm pretty sure this is all just a misunderstanding, but until we can get in touch with him, please bear with us."

"That's odd," commented Phoebe, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah…" I agreed. "He was really all fired up for this show when I talked to him before. I really doubt this is just a case of flaking."

"Do you think something happened to him, then?" she asked.

"I don't _think_ something happened," I replied. "I'm sure something _did_. C'mon, Pheebs… it's brainstorming time."

"Cogitating!" she replied chipperly.

As the two of us left to figure out the next step, one thing kept nagging me… that smirk on Summer's face as she remarked on my "new guy."

Now that I thought about it, it was strangely anticlimactic that she would just give up like that, claiming that she'd gotten what she wanted. And that she had "ruined my vacation," when actually it had been going pretty well.

Odds were, her strange behavior and Brainy's disappearance were completely unrelated, and this was all a huge coincidence, but… call it a hunch, call it alien hybrid's intuition, whatever… something was telling me that she was the key to all of this.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, it's all about to come to a head! The next chapter should end this arc, and hopefully it won't take me quite as long to write it. Once again, sorry for the delay, and thank you for your patience.**

**Jose: Looks like Summer's stepped up her "prank" game (actually, this is more like a serious felony. Hmm, maybe she does grow up to be the Bride from **_**And You May Ask Yourself). **_**And it's actually an Irken dialect for "He Who Eviscerates You with His Bare Hands and Delights in the Experience". Yep, he's a parody of a certain well-known comic character.**

**Veganmama: Well, if you've read my other stories, you know they do eventually end up together, but the course of true love doesn't always run in a straight line.**

**HumanDictionary: Helga's got a bit of a dark sense of humor.**

**Next: The end of the beach storyline, finally!**


	15. Impulsive Choices

Chapter 14

Impulsive Choices

-BRIAN-

Sitting in a dark room, nearly blind, gives you plenty of time to go over the mistakes you've made in your life. If I had to pick the one change I'd make, it would be "get dad to invest in more durable glasses."

Seriously. I used to go through tons of pairs. Mostly my fault, of course, for constantly drifting into fist-range of Helga Pataki, but in my defense, she really was a fascinating girl. To everyone else, she was merely the scowling bully who ruled the class with an acid tongue backed with an iron first, but for me, she was so much more. Granted, it's because I was kind of a creeper, but thanks to that shameful little detail, I got to be privy to her innermost thoughts. It was then that two things became evident to me: 1) that I was in love with her and 2) that I could never really have her, because her heart would forever be pledged to another. It was something that I resigned myself to, especially after San Lorenzo; in fact, I'm kind of proud to say that, when it seemed like she had completely given up hope, I encouraged her to push on when I could easily have done nothing. Rather sporting of me, right?

My ruminations were interrupted by the approach of an engine. Maybe my luck was finally changing? At this point, it could only get better, right? I got up and started banging on the door to the shack. "Hey!" I yelled. "Someone locked me in here!"

"Well, duh, Brush-head," a voice I instantly recognized as the fake crewmember answered. "I'm the one who did it."

Oh," I replied, slumping in annoyance. Of course. It couldn't be that easy. "You wouldn't mind telling me just _why_ you decided to knock me out and lock me up, would you? Seeing as I've never met you before in my entire life and all…"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," she said, "I got nothin' against you personally… this is all about your friend Blondie."

"Blondie?" I asked, feigning ignorance. I had a feeling I knew exactly who she was referring to, but I didn't want to let on just how much I knew.

"You know, Helga Pataki."

"How do you even know her?" I asked, genuinely confused as to what vendetta she could possibly hold. "What could she have possibly done to you?"

"That bitch cheated me out of my future," she replied coldly. "I was supposed to get that role on Babewatch! Me! Not her! But _noooo_… she stole _my_ chance at fame! And she didn't even _do_ anything with it!"

Oh, right… years ago, Arnold and Helga had somehow gotten bit roles on the popular syndicated series. Ironically, the series got cancelled shortly after due to Sam Henderson's departure and the disastrous spinoff, _Babewatch After Dark. _Who on Earth thought that having Danny Hassenpfeffer ditch his speedo and become a private eye who fought werewolves was a good idea? Who wanted to watch _Babewatch_… without babes?

"So she beat you out for a role six years ago," I said. "Seems… kind of an overreaction on your part…"

"Overreaction? OVERREACTION?" Uh boy. This girl was sounding pretty unhinged. "That girl stole my one ticket out of this shithole town! I could've been somebody! But no, instead I get to grow up in this dead-end-burg. So, seeing as she's taken so much from me, I figured I'd return the favor by taking something of hers."

So, that's what this was all about. I chuckled. "Oh boy, did you pick the wrong guy," I replied. "Believe me, I'm nothing to her. This really was a complete waste of time. But hey… maybe if you let me go, we can forget this whole thing ever happened."

"Oh, don't play dumb with me, stretch. I saw the two of you talking. That girl was _real_ happy to see you. You guys must be pretty close."

"Seriously, this is the first time we've spoken in over a year! I really don't have much of a relationship with her at all, I swear," I protested. "Seriously, what exactly is your plan here? How long do you think you can keep me here? You're going to have to feed me eventually…" She would, right? Unless she intended to… no. The girl was clearly deranged, but she didn't seem _that_ crazy. At least, I didn't think so.

"Eh… we'll get to that when we get to that," she replied. "For now, you're staying right where you are, at least 'til that brat goes home. Then, we'll talk." She smirked, I assume. I could hear it in her tone. "Who knows? Maybe I'll keep you. Maybe you'll learn to like it here. It's actually kind of nice, in the summer anyway."

"Really? That's your endgame? Wait for Stockholm Syndrome to kick in?"

"Hey, I don't know what you've heard, but I've been tested and I don't have anything!" she retorted angrily. I guess my reference was a bit off her radar.

"I'm just saying… I really don't see any way you come out of this on top. You get caught, you are going to jail."

"Well, then I guess I'm the State's problem, aren't I," she replied dismissively. "Not like my life was going anywhere anyway."

She sounded pretty resigned to staying the course. I had hoped that maybe I could talk her out of the situation, but it seemed like that course of action wasn't going to cut it. At this point, my only hope was someone noticing that I was gone…

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

"Summer?" the crew chief, who kind of looked like "The Dude" after a doughnut jag, repeated, rubbing his scraggly beard.

"Yeah," I repeated. "Tanned, _very_ blonde, about 19, 20 years old? She was wearing a crew shirt and cap, so I figured you would know her?"

The burly man shrugged. "No…. no one like that's on the crew. "

"You sure?"

'Think I'd remember hiring a hot blonde, especially with a name like that. I don't know where she got crew gear, but ain't from me."

"Oh, well, thanks. If you do see someone like that, tell her I found her wallet and want to return it," I lied.

Well, that confirmed at least part of Helga's hunch. If nothing else, I had confirmed that Summer was _not _a legitimate part of the beach party's crew. What her motives for pretending to be one were, I couldn't be sure of, but it was unlikely that they were innocent.

"Well, that answers that," Helga commented as I rejoined her.

"What's next?" I asked.

"We go to the guy who knows her best… Alex." She led the two of us back to the funnel-cake stand, where the surf instructor was still in mid-canoodle with the stand attendant. Helga cleared her throat loudly to get his attention.

The two instantly became aware of her presence. "Uh… hi, Helga," stammered Alex. "I, uh, was just…"

"Xander, who is this?" the funnel cake girl asked suspiciously. "Is this that horrible ex you told me about?" Xander? Did he use different names for every girl he tried to proposition?

"N-no, of course not, Staci, she's just a kid," he protested. Helga raised her eyebrow but said nothing regarding Alex's denial.

"Actually, his ex was what we wanted to talk to him about," she said instead. "Do you have any idea where I could find her?"

"Oh, uh, I guess you could try her house. Go down the boardwalk to Dumas Street, make a right, then a left on Kolosov. It's #23."

"Okay, thanks," she said, beginning to walk off.

"Wait!" Alex said, running after her. "About that, I can totally-"

"Alex," she replied calmly, "believe me when I say that I could not care less what you do behind my back. Nothing was ever going to happen between us."

"…it wasn't?" he asked, sounding disappointed.

"No, it wasn't. You're too old for me and I feel absolutely no attraction to you whatsoever."

"Really? None?"

"Not even the tiniest bit. So, hey, good luck with Funnel Cake girl."

"Uh, okay… well, see ya,"

"Probably not," Helga replied as we began the trek to Summer's house.

"You know, that was very mature of you," I stated.

"Uggghhh, stop telling me that," she groaned in reply.

"Well, it was. You could have told Staci that Alex… or, 'Xander', I suppose… was hitting on you earlier, but you kept it to yourself."

"Well, yeah, it's not like I would've gained anything from it other than a bit of schadenfreude. Maybe that would've been enough a few years ago, but it just doesn't do anything for me anymore."

"A very mature attitude," I said, grinning.

"I swear you do this on purpose."

"Well, obviously."

* * *

_-HELGA-_

The house had certainly seen better days. The tiny "lawn" was mostly weeds, the paint was peeling, and the roof was barely holding on. The doorbell was just a non-functioning ornament, so I risked a knock on the door.

"SUMMER! SUMMER! GET THE DOOR!" a rough voice yelled. "WHERE THE HELL IS THAT LITTE TRAMP?! JESUS… ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, I'M COMIN'…" Heavy footsteps were heard approaching the door, which opened to reveal what was clearly Summer's mother. All you had to do was subtract two decades, about fifty pounds, and two packs a day, and they could be twins. She eyed the two of us suspiciously. "Whaddayou two want," she half-asked, half-accused. "You ain't collectin' for one o'them crazy religions, are you?" I could already tell this was going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Actually," I answered, "we're friends of Summer, and we were wondering if you had any idea where she was?"

The woman stink-eyed us. "Didn't know the little whore had friends. You learn something new every day. Anyway, I have no idea where she is, and frankly I don't care. Sooner the little parasite's out of my hair, the better."

Yikes.

Now, Bob's never exactly been Dad of the year. He's better these days, but even at his absolute worst, he was downright cuddly compared to this woman. Once again, I felt a pang of empathy for Summer. This couldn't have been a fun house to grow up in.

"Well, thanks for your help," I said, figuring there was no further progress to be made here.

"Whatever," she replied, slamming the door in our faces. Just as well, really; frankly I just wanted to get out of here. The less time spent around Mrs. Ironic Last Name, the better. Unfortunately, now the two of us were out of leads.

"So, now what?" I asked Phoebe as we walked away from the Love residence.

"Have you tried contacting Brainy's cel?" she responded.

"Unfortunately, I don't have his number. I should have asked for it when I talked to him earlier, but I was kind of in my own head and didn't think to do it."

"Hold on," Pheobe advised, fiddling with her phone for a minute. "There. I asked Rhonda to text me his number. She uses his DJ services for her parties sometimes, so I figure she has it."

"Well, that's a start. I do have a few other ideas, but I'm gonna need to make a couple of changes before I do."

* * *

I hadn't bothered to pack my costume, since I didn't think it was likely I'd have a need for it, but I _did _see fit to pack on outfit that would fit my mutant bod, on the off-chance that I felt like doing some night flying. Nothing major, just a pair of jeans and a white four-sleeved T-shirt emblazoned with a pink-bow-wearing "Grey" head with the caption "ALIEN GURL." I had a grey jacket that went with it, but it was too hot tonight. The outfit was designed so that I could easily get it on in my human form, then let my extra limbs slip through the openings as I shifted.

"There. I can cover more ground faster this way." I said. "And if I can reach his phone, my super-hearing should be able to pick up his ringtone."

"Seems practical," Phoebe commented, "but what if you run into Summer? Even with the changes to your face, it's still similar enough that she may recognize you."

"I thought of that," I replied, fishing a bandana out of my duffel and tying it over the lower half of my face. "That should do the job."

"Very well. I'll continue the ground-level search. Good luck!"

The beach party was still in full swing, despite the absence of one of the acts. They'd simply gone on to the next performers on the bill, a 90s hip-hop tribute group called 2 Legit. The crowd was too caught up in the celebration to look up, which was just fine with me. The last thing I needed right now was to draw attention.

I scanned the crowd for a sign of Summer but came up empty. After a few sweeps f the crowd, I decided to expand the search radius, ranging further up and down the beach. There didn't seem to be much activity with the beach bash drawing all the locals and tourists. There really wasn't much past the main area, but way, way up further, you could see a storage shack that could be accessed through a back road. Didn't seem like anything worth checking out… although… if I _was_ going to hide someone…

Going on that hunch, I swooped down next to the shack and tapped the door. "Hey!" A voice shouted from inside. "Someone locked me in here!"

"Hey, Brainy," I answered back.

"Helga?" he asked. "Oh thank god it's you. That girl is _nuts_."

"Don't I know it," I replied. "Just step as far away from the door as you can."

"Oh," he said, realizing. "You're going to-"

"Oh yeah," I replied, punching the door clean off its hinges.

Brainy, looking a bit disheveled and minus his glasses but otherwise all right, was leaning against the back wall. "I bet that would've looked awesome if I could see that clearly," he joked.

"Where are your glasses?" I asked.

"Somewhere on the floor. Broken."

"Well, for once it wasn't my fault," I remarked. He chuckled. "So… just to make sure my hunch is right… who did this to you?"

"I never got her name, but… she was about 19 or 20, had a deep tan and very very blond hair, and she was wearing a crew T-shirt and cap. She seemed to think that… heh heh, that I was your boyfriend or something. Like that'd ever happen, right?"

"Heh heh, yeah," I agreed, awkwardly rubbing the back of my head. "Let's get you out of here."

* * *

_-SUMMER-_

I had just gotten back from checking on my captive. Heh. "Captive." I'm a kidnapperr now. That escalated quickly, right? Yesterday it was petty pranks, today I knocked someone out and locked him up. That's a logical progression, right?

…well, it's not like I was gonna keep him locked up forever, right? I'll let him go just as soon as his bitch girlfriend goes home. Yeah… nobody has to get hurt… more… and nobody has to press charges…

…yeah, it was kind of only occurring to me now that I really could go to jail for this. Sure, my mind sort of brushed on the topic, but I rationalized that it would get me away from Mom at least. But I knew enough to know that jail would be no vacation.

So, now, I was mostly focused on figuring out how the hell I was gonna get out of this.

I was arriving back at the beach party when Nerdboy's phone went off again. I cursed myself for not ditching the thing when I had the chance. Well, the only thing to do was ignore it and try not to look suspicious.

Except it didn't stop. It kept going off again and again. Someone was really eager to reach that dork.

"Hey!" A voice shouted. I glanced over and spotted Helga Bitchtaki's little geek friend. She was looking right at me. I attempted to pretend like I hadn't heard her and began to casually stroll off, hoping that maybe she was yelling to someone else.

"Wait!" she yelled. Nope. I don't know how she'd done it, but somehow she was on to me. She'd made the connection that dialing Nerdboy's number wazs making "my" phone ring and had guessed that I had something to do with him disappearing. Well, fine. I wasn't taking any chances at that point. I bolted as fast as my legs could carry me, hoping the crowd would impede any chance she had of catching up with me. Maybe if I got back to the shack fast enough, I could let that guy out and talk my way out of this whole situation somehow.

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

The crowd back at the party was pretty thick, and it was hard to pick any one person out of it. It looked like this particular part of the investigation had hit a dead end.

A chirp on my phone alerted me. It looked like Rhonda had finally gotten back to me with Brainy's number. Well, it was worth a try, though the likelihood that any decent criminal would leave Brainy his cell phone was pretty slim.

I dialed and listened. Of course, nobody was picking up, but I could hear a ringtone going off in unison with the ringing, somewhere at the edge of the crowd. I recognized it as a chiptune version of the Police's "Every Breath You Take"… a bit on the nose, really. I dialed again while looking in the direction the ringtone had come from.

Bingo. There she was. So, she'd had the good sense to take his phone, but not enough to ditch it, or at the very least turn it off. A criminal mastermind, she was not. "Hey!" I yelled, seeing if she would react. She did seem to notice, but pretended not to and began to stroll off a little _too_ nonchalantly. "Wait!" I yelled again, and this time she gave up all pretense of innocence bolted like a startled rabbit. "Damn," I muttered to myself as I pushed my way through the crowd, my finger already hitting Helga's autodial number.

"Majestic Eagle to Mighty Falcon! The rabbit it on the move!"

"_Hey, when I said you could have a new code name, I didn't mean one better than mine!"_ Helga replied peevishly.

"Too bad. I like it. Anyway, what's going on on your end?"

"_Well, you'll be happy to know that I've found Brainy, and aside from a par of broken glasses and a slight headache, he's fine._"

"Excellent. Well, Summer's in possession of Brainy's cell, so she's almost definitely our woman. I've lost sight of her, but I saw which direction she ran off in. Shall I pursue?"

"Eh, I don't think you'll have to. I have a feeling she'll be coming my way soon enough."

* * *

_-SUMMER-_

I was pretty sure I'd managed to lose Mousey McMouserton, but I took several random turns to be sure before finding my way back to the shack. Hopefully, I could convince Nerdboy that this was all just some crazy Internet prank show or something like that and we could all move on and pretend one of this ever happened.

That hope crumbled when I made it back and noticed that not only was Nerdboy free, but that freaky superhero chick from the city, Hell Girl or whatever (with the horns and the tail it was probably something like that), had been the one to free him. How she'd gotten here, and why she was dressed like some kind of gang member instead of her usual suit, I had no idea, but the fact was I was deeply screwed.

"Well, well," she said, lower hands on hips, upper arms crossed in front of her chest, her three eyes boring a disapproving hole right through me. "For a miserable little shack in the middle of nowhere, it sure is popular tonight. Is this the woman who assaulted you, Mr. Bartlett?"

"That's her," he confirmed.

Something was telling me talking my way out of the situation was a non-starter. They guy had me positively ID'd, and there was no way puny little me could take down, or outrun, a mutant chick. I was officially SOL. So, all that was left was to own up to it and hope the fact that it was my first (known) offense would make the court go easy on me. "Okay, fine, you got me." I said. "Take me away. I deserve it."

"You don't exactly come off as a hardened criminal," Hell Girl remarked. "Why'd you decide to _start_ with kidnapping? Seems kind of ambitious…"

I sighed. "I don't know," I said. "There's this girl, and she pretty much ruined my life without even realizing it, and… I just wanted to get back at her so bad… and I saw a chance and just went for it. I thought… well, no, really I didn't think at all, did I. I just did it because I'm fucked up in the head. I… mom was right. I'm garbage. I deserve whatever I'm going to get."

"Your mom called you that?" Hell Girl asked.

I snorted in response. "That's one of the nicer things she called me."

"Jesus." There was something in her eyes. It was hard to tell because her eyes were so alien-looking, but was that compassion? "What kind of person does that?"

"She's been like that ever since daddy walked out on us," I said. "Guess she saw me as the burden he dumped on her. Well, I guess I've proved she was right all along."

"Huh," Hell Girl commented, as if mulling things over. "Mr. Bartlett, how are you feeling?'

"Well, my head's a little sore, but I don't think I'm seriously hurt or anything."

"Okay," she nodded. "Give him back anything you took from him, and pay for his broken glasses, and… maybe nobody has to know any of this happened?"

"Seriously?" both me and Nerdboy replied at the same time.

"Yeah, seriously," Hell Girl responded. "I mean, if you think about it, this whole situation's been resolved, nobody really got hurt and no real damage was done, so I don't really see a reason to see someone get stuck with a criminal record, as long as she never pulls anything like this again."

"I promise!" I agreed eagerly. "From now on it's the straight and narrow for me!" I couldn't believe my luck, and the last thing I wanted to do was push it.

"Okay. Now, I never, ever want to see you again. Got it?"

"Trust me," I said. "That's the last thing I want." I fished around in my pockets. "Okay, here's your phone, your wallet, your… whatever this is…"

"My inhaler," he said. "I have asthma."

"Oh, shit, sorry," I said, handing it back hurriedly.

"Eh, I haven't really had a bad attack in ages, but I still like to carry it around just in case."

"Uh, well… okay," I said. "I guess I'll just go now…" Before the others could reply, I hurried off, eager to put this whole thing behind me, and determined to never wind up in this kind of situation again.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"I'm kind of surprised you just… let her go like that," Brainy said as we strolled back along the beach.

"Yeah, well, you know… I kinda found myself relating a bit. She's not the only one who acted out because of a shitty home life. Though I gotta admit, hers makes my childhood look downright idyllic." I glanced back at him. "I could just fly you back, you know," I offered.

"I'm not really the biggest fan of heights," he replied. "Besides, I don't really think I'm up to doing my set tonight."

"That's a shame," I responded. "I was kinda looking forward to hearing it."

"Well, then," he said smiling. "I think we'll have to arrange a private performance for you."

"It's a date!" I answered back, before my brain realized my choice of words. "I mean… we… we should do that."

"It's okay, I know what you mean," he chuckled. "I mean, it's not like you'd _date_-date me."

"W-well… I'm not so sure about that…" I said. "I mean, if… maybe someone were to ask when I'm a good mood… maybe I'd consider it?"

"And… do we know who this particular someone is?"

"We might."

He turned to me. "Helga G. Pataki, would you do me the honor of going out with me sometime?"

And just like that, I was on the spot. Granted, I'd kind of been the one to raise the question, but I didn't think he'd call my bluff so soon.

"When would we be talking about?" I asked.

"How about next Saturday night?"

* * *

**A.N.: Will she? Won't she? You'll just have to wait 'til next time when-**

* * *

"…okay," I said. "Saturday night."

"Yeah, I understand, I'm really sorry I put you un- wait, did you say okay?"

"Yes, I did. Don't get any ideas, Brainy. I'm not gonna run off with you to Paris or anything, but… one date? Yeah… I think after all we've been through, you deserve a chance."

"Okay. Looks like I have about two weeks to come up with a way to wow you. Don't worry, you won't regret this."

"I'd better not."

* * *

**A.N.: Yeah, I couldn't make you wait. Anyway, that's it, at last, for the beach arc! Next up… well, it could be anyone's guess, really. **

**Thanks to metalheadrailfan for the design of Helga's outfit; it's from the fanart of Teen Mutant Helga on his DA gallery, which you should definitely check out. I've been looking for an excuse to have her wear his outfit, and I finally managed to fit it in here.**

**Jose: Yes, Oso is a Lobo reference, with a bit of Skulker from **_**Danny Phantom**_** thrown in. We'll be seeing more of him soon enough.**

**See you all next time, and stay healthy!**


	16. Community Service

**A.N.: Well, so far this story's been very Helga-centric, so I've decided to switch things up a little this chapter and focus on Rhonda and a character I haven't used much but want to develop a bit. Hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter 15

Community Service

_Fourth Avenue Homeless Shelter_

The Jeep pulled up in front of the old California-style mission building. Its driver, Major Gustav Caudell, glanced aside disapprovingly at his lone passenger, a sullen older teen with a dirty-blond mullet and goatee, clad in faded jeans and a T-shirt advertising local punk band Bloated Sack of Protoplasm.

"Looks like this is the place the judge assigned you to," the Major said. "Remember, I'll be checking with Father Castillo, so you'd better not give him any trouble. Understood?"

_-WOLFGANG-_

"Aye aye, Major," I replied snapping a sarcastic salute at him.

"Son," the Major continued, ignoring my little shot at him, "you were _this close _to being tried as an adult. You got lucky the judge decided to go easy on you. Honestly, what were you thinking? Two weeks before you turn eighteen and you decide to rob a convenience store?"

"Look, I didn't know it was gonna be a robbery! We were just there to get some snacks-"

"'Snacks'," he retorted, cutting me off. "I don't think a case of beer qualifies as 'snacks', son."

"Whatever, man, it's not like you care what I do to myself. You're just mad I got caught 'cause it makes you look bad."

His hand moved of its own accord, slapping me across the face. He'd gotten really good over the years at hitting me just hard enough to make it sting, but not hard enough to leave a lasting mark. "You watch your tone, son. You're not in any position to backtalk me. Not after what you just pulled."

I sat there, my stinging face advising me not to test his temper further. I hated to admit it, but he was right…. Things could have gone worse.

As I got out of the Jeep, and walked toward the shelter, my thoughts drifted back to just how I'd gotten into this mess…

* * *

_One week ago_

_A bunch of us guys were hitting the Dusk to Dawn on a snack run. We'd scored a bag of the good stuff and we needed lots of salty and cheesy crap to chase it with._

_There were five of us there that night… me, Mickey the Weasel, Edmund. Dave, and Mike Brukowski. Mike was a couple of years older than us. He'd been expelled senior year and these days was making bank doing odd jobs for certain less-than-legitimate businessmen, which meant that he pretty much knew how to get anything you could possibly want. He also had a reputation for being a bit less then stable, but it was worth the connection. You needed booze, weed, "discount" electronics, or whatever, he was your guy. And when he wanted to hang, you jumped at the chance._

_So, thusly, piles of Chili-Cheese Chippos, barbecue pork rings, nacho tortilla chips and the like were piled on the counter. Mike followed it with a case of Beermeister Lite ("I'm watching my figure," he joked). The cashier looked Mike over… while Mike wasn't quite 21 yet, he could pass for it. Unfortunately, this cashier was a stickler. "Can I see your ID?" he asked._

"_Oh, sure," answered Mike. "I got my ID right here." He pulled out a gun and pointed it squarely in the startled clerk's face. "Well?" he asked. "Does it check out? Good. I'll also be taking everything in the register."_

"_Dude, this is nuts." Edmund whispered to me. "I thought he were just gonna use a fake ID or something."_

"_Shhh!" I advised. "Just keep quiet and we'll get outta here."_

"_But he's crazy," Edmund continued. "Look, he didn't even try to cover his face or anything! I didn't sign up for this, man. I don't wanna get in trouble."_

"_It's okay," I said. "We just keep our heads down, we get out of here, and nothing-"_

_We were interrupted by the automatic doors opening to admit a new customer. Ordinarily this would just be a normal occurrence, but this particular customer happened to have purple skin, wings, a tail, horns, two sets of arms, and a red-and-blue uniform and black visor. And if you happened to be robbing the place at the time, this was quite possibly the worst customer to drop in. Because this customer just happened to be a superhero named Joule._

"_Ohhhh, shit," muttered Dave._

"_Seriously?" Joule grumbled to herself. "Now? I was just coming in for coffee!"_

"_S-stay back," Mike stammered, swinging the gun around to point in her direction. "Don't take a step closer. I'm warning you."_

"_Are they making criminals dumber or what?" Joule remarked. "You know that thing can't hurt me." She stepped closer. "Now, put it down and this'll be a lot easier for you." _

"…_I can still hurt him!" Mike declared, swinging the gun back around. I held my breath. This all just started as a (admittedly illegal) beer run, but it had escalated to armed robbery and it was about to spiral into murder._

"_Oh, hell no," Joule interrupted, hitting Mike with a stun bolt before he could shoot the clerk. The attempted robber dropped the gun and collapsed to the ground, twitching. _

"_Shit! Run for it!" Mickey shouted, bolting for the door with Dave close behind. _

"_So the rest of you are in on it," Joule inferred, quickly snagging the two runaways with her left pair of hands._

"_No way!" I said. "We didn't know he was gonna try to rob the place!"_

"_Yeah, we were just gonna pick up some beer and stuff 'cause he said he had a fake ID," Edmund added._

"_Shut up," I whispered, elbowing him. "That's still illegal, you idiot!" Edmund's my bro, but the guy's a moron._

* * *

Anyway, the cops had shown up soon after; apparently the clerk had managed to hit the panic button just as soon as he'd spotted the gun. The whole lot of us were hauled downtown; Mike was of course charged with armed robbery, and tried to drag the rest of us down with him by naming us as accessories. Thankfully, after our hearings the judge had seen fit to sentence us to community service instead of trying us as adults, and well… here I was, assigned to a homeless shelter.

Father Castillo was there to meet me in the main entranceway. He was a tall man in his mid-thirties of Mexican descent. "Hello," he said kindly. "You must be Wolfgang Caudell. Judge Lamont informed me you would be here today. Shall we get started, then?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" I snarked. "Not if I don't wanna go to jail."

"We always have a choice," he replied. "This is your chance to choose to change your ways."

"I'm just here to get this over with, Padre," I said. "Save the sermons for Sunday."

"It _is_ Sunday."

"Oh, right, yeah." Well, that was embarrassing. "Just show me what I'm supposed to do, okay?"

"All right, but I'm just asking you; please use this opportunity to think about what kind of person you want to be." He led me down the hallway. "Now, you'll be under Rhonda's supervision today."

"Rhonda?" I only knew one Rhonda. "Rhonda Lloyd?"

"Yes. She's been volunteering here for years, so she'll be able to fill you in on how things work here."

Figures. Clearly I was assigned here so she could keep an eye on me. After all, it was her fault I was here in the first place. Yeah, I know all about that whole secret identity of hers. I'd been there that day when all that crazy stuff went down with that weird old scientist guy and the demon. We'd all been made to promise we wouldn't breathe a word of what happened there, under threat of having our minds erased (I didn't know if they could actually do that, but I wasn't taking any chances). Well, whatever. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of reporting my bad attitude. I was going to just serve out my time so I could get out of here and never have to go back.

* * *

_-RHONDA-_

I can't believe they assigned him _here_.

"Well," Father Castillo said, "I'll leave the two of you to get acquainted.

"Oh, I know him already," I said.

"Even better," he replied. Why don't you get him signed in, then you can get started on the kitchen prep today," With that last suggestion, he left us to our awkwardness.

"So," Wolfgang said, "I guess you decided you needed to watch over me to make sure I stay on the straight and narrow?"

"As _though_," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "Believe me, babysitting you is the last thing I wanted to do with my weekend." Yeah, it had been years since elementary school, but I still had vivid memories of the times he'd tormented my friends and myself, starting with the time he'd pushed me into the mud in first grade, completely ruining my red Caprini jumper. And it had only gone on from there… yeah, I really had very little desire to spend any more time with Wolfgang than was absolutely necessary. It was bad enough that, as a cheerleader, I had to attend every one of his football games and endure his and his friends' crude come-ons. Now he was going to be in close proximity to me for who knows how many weekends. "Let's just get through this and after today, I'll see if the judge can assign you somewhere else. It'll be better for both of us."

"Hey, it's thanks to _you_ I'm here in the first place."

"I know, it's also thanks to me you're here and not rotting in a jail cell."

* * *

_Five days ago_

_Hillwood Criminal Court_

"_Please raise your right hand… either will do…" the bailiff requested. I knew the procedure by now; this wasn't Joule's first time in court, after all. I was often called for testimony in cases I'd been involved in; it was part of the agreement with the Mayor's office that allowed me to do my thing. "Do you so affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you god?"_

"_I do," I affirmed, nodding. _

_The Assistant DA cleared his throat. "Now, Miss Joule, can you please tell the court just what transpired on Sunday morning at 2AM at the Dusk-to-Dawn on Willow Avenue?"_

"_Certainly," I said. "I had arrived at the store in question during a lull in my night patrol."_

"_And what did you find upon entering the establishment?"_

"_I found an armed robbery in progress. A man was pointing a gun at the clerk and I can only assume what his intentions were, but they probably weren't innocent."_

"_And is that man in this courtroom right now?"_

"_No, he is not. The man in the courtroom was present, but he was not the man holding the gun."_

"_Can you tell us what the defendant was doing at the time the robbery was taking place?_

"_I can. The defendant was cowering behind a "Sir Almond" standee hoping no one would notice him._

"_Hey!" interrupted Wolfgang. "I wasn't cowering! I was assessing the situation! I ain't no wuss!"_

_The judge banged her gavel. "Mr. Caudell, please, no further outbursts. Can the prosecution please continue?"_

"_Yes. So, if I understand you correctly, your position is that the defendant was not complicit in any crime being committed at the time?"_

_I could have said something about his mullet being a crime against good taste, but I refrained. That would have been a cheap shot. Funny, but a cheap shot. And ultimately not relevant. "No, not to my knowledge."_

"_I see… are you aware that the defendant has been confirmed to be personally involved in several counts of petty vandalism committed earlier in the day?"_

"_Objection!" Wolfgang's defense attorney answered. "Irrelevant to the case."_

"_I am merely establishing a pattern of criminal behavior…"_

"_Sustained," the judge said. "We will be addressing the counts of vandalism later, but they are irrelevant to the current charge."_

"_Very well…. No further questions, your honor…"_

"_Defense, your witness?"_

"_The defense rests, your honor."_

"_Very well… Miss Joule, you are dismissed. Now, as to the three charges of vandalism…"_

* * *

That was that for me. I was asked to wait in the witness's chamber in case they needed to call me back, but that never occurred. Eventually, the court clerk let me know I was free to go. I found out later that the judge had decided that, due to not participating in the robbery, his sentence was lowered to fifty hours of community service. I thought that would be the end of that, but here he was. And while I was gad he wouldn't be going to jail… while our history together was bad, it was still history… I wasn't exactly excited to be spending my Sunday with him.

"So, what's the plan, rich girl?" he inquired irreverently. "Hose off the bums?"

Oh, lord, give me strength. "First of all… they are not 'bums'. You never know who could wind up here. Lots of people are just one paycheck away from winding up in a place like this." Or one stock market downturn. Yeah… some years back, my family's finances were nearly wiped out by a stock market drop (or so I believed at the time… later on, I found out that what had really happened was that our broker had embezzled our fortune, while lying that the market had crashed. He was caught a week later and our finances were restored, but from then on, daddy kept a much closer eye on what was happening with his money, branching out into more solid investments like real estate). Had Arnold's grandparents not taken us in, we very well could have ended up in a place like this.

"Okay, okay, sheez, just tryin' to lighten the mood, Princess. No need to get all political. What are the royal orders?"

"First, put this on." I tossed him a hairnet.

"Aw, come on…"

"Hey, if I have to wear one, you _definitely _have to wear one, mullet boy."

"Okay, fine…" He reluctantly put it on. Admittedly, he looked ridiculous and I couldn't help but giggle. "Hey! You told me to put this thing on. This is on you."

"*chuckle* Right, sorry, sorry."

"Yeah, yeah, now what?"

"Now, I need you to peel that box of potatoes."

He took a look. "The whole thing?"

"We have a lot of people to feed today. You do the potatoes, I'll be doing the carrots."

And so it went in silence for a while. About halfway through the box of potatoes, apparently he got bored, because he decided to strike up a conversation. "So, you've been working here a long time, huh…"

"Since sixth grade, yeah,"

"It's kinda surprising."

"Why?"

"I mean… you're Rhonda Lloyd."

"So?"

"So, you know… you kinda got a reputation for being kinda…"

"KInda what?"

"…you know…. Stuck up."

"Is that what your football team pals tell you?" Believe me, I have very little love for the football team. Gerald and Harold are fine, but the rest… not a fan. "Not being interested in being hit on doesn't make me 'stuck up'. Though that's probably the least of what they call me behind my back, isn't it."

He rubbed the back of his head. "Well…"

"…let me guess, it has something to do with me having a taste for a particular floor covering?"

"Hey, I didn't say it…"

"No, but I'm guessing you don't really go out of your way to defend me. Look, I know who I am, but that doesn't mean it's okay to shit on me for it."

"Look… I don't nave a problem with you, if chicks is what you're into, fine. But I don't control what they think."

"So what you're saying is, you don't want to speak up out of fear of offending the majority of the team. Seems, I dunno, kinda…." I smirked. "Wussy."

He bristled at the suggestion. "I am _not _a wussy."

"I'm not really seeing any evidence to the contrary. C'mon, are you telling me the guy who was practically king of his class is now scared to go against the crowd?"

"Hey… that's just how it is, okay? I bet the cheerleaders trash you behind your back too."

"*shrug* Eh, probably." I was under no impression that they wouldn't… teen girls being catty? Shocker! Of course, head cheerleader Ruth McDougal would have none of that on her watch… she may not have been the brightest bulb in the box, both she was a genuinely good person and wouldn't stand for that sort of thing. Of course, come fall she was gone and I'd have to deal with one of the former Juniors… "I don't hide who I am and who I'm with. If they want to be shitty about it, that's their issue." I turned back to the carrots. "Guess that's the difference between us… I'm who I want to be, you're who they want you to be."

He was silent after that, whether ashamed or offended I could not guess. After we were done, I gave him other tasks, and to his credit he did what was expected of him. No doubt he wanted to get out of there as much as I wanted him to.

Eventually, the time had come to serve dinner. "All right," I said before we started transferring things to the dining hall. "Be kind, be courteous, be respectful. Remember, like I said, we could have easily been these people."

"I'll be good. Trust me, I want to get this crap over with."

Once the buffet was set up, we waited for the residents to line up. Some of them were familiar to me, some weren't. The first was a lanky Caucasian man in, if I had to guess, his late forties, early fifties, with pale blond hair. He looked like the sort of person who had once been formidable, but had been worn down by time or circumstance or possibly both. I smiled… always serve with a smile… and said "Good evening! Welcome to the Fourth Street Mission… what can I get for you? Tonight we have a choice of chicken noodle soup or cauliflower soup, a choice of Salisbury steak or veggie cutlet, with roasted potatoes and mixed veggies."

The man looked at me apologetically "I… you know, I don't really belong here, I'm just sorta down on my luck right n-"

"Hey, hey, you don't need to explain yourself, we're really not interested in your past, just your future. I'm Rhonda, by the way. This is Wolfgang.

"Oh, okay… I'm Bill. I'll uh, I'll have the cauliflower soup. To go with my ears." He snickered. I wasn't going to comment, but his ears were unusually puffy. "And the Salisbury steak."

"Our pleasure," I said, ladling the soup. "Wolfgang, make him a plate." I glanced over, but he was just staring. "Wolfgang," I repeated, gently elbowing him.

"Oh… sorry," he said, snapping back to attention. "Right, uh… he wanted the hamburger-thingy?"

After Bill received his dinner, I took Wolfgang aside. "I know this is your first day, but we _do not stare_," I whispered.

"Do you know who that was?" he asked.

"Should I?" I replied.

"That was Bloated Bill Bouvier, the Cajun Crusher!" I stared blankly. "The wrestler?"

"I don't really follow wrestling…."

"Well, he was big, trust me, up until a few years ago, when he lost the big steel cage match against the Shrieking Sultan. After that, he kind of disappeared. Nobody knew what happened to him, but here he is!"

Well, I don't really know wrestling, but it was clear: Bill had been a Big Deal, and now he wasn't. "See, this is what I was talking about. Anyone could have a streak of bad luck and wind up someplace they never were."

"Yeah, I'm starting to see that now."

* * *

"Well," I said after the day was finally done, "I guess that's it." We'd finished serving dinner, we'd cleaned up afterward, and our shift was done. "I have to say, you did a fine job." I signed his timesheet. "I'll have the Rev sign off on this, and we'll contact the court to request you be assigned somewhere else. That is, of course, if you still want to…"

"Well…" he said, "it wasn't… too bad…"

"Oh?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I mean, don't get me wrong, I probably wouldn't be here if it was my choice, but… it's not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. And… I gotta admit, I thought you were gonna lord it over me, but… you really didn't make a bad boss."

"Yeah?" I asked, genuinely surprised. "Well… I too must admit that I expected a bad attitude out of you, but I must say I was pleasantly surprised."

"…yeah, see, when you talk like that, that's why people think you're stuck up," he joked.

"Oh, screw you," I said, whipping a dishrag at him.

He laughed back. "Now _that's_ more like it. I'll get you to loosen up yet."

"Whatever you say, mullet boy. Same time next week?"

"It sure looks that way. Smell ya later Princess."

Huh. Getting along with Wolfgang. Maybe miracles did happen.

* * *

**A.N.: So, how was that? I thought I'd flesh out Wolfgang a bit and have him bond a bit with Rhonda seeing as how he plays into an arc I have in mind for her. **

**HumanDictionary: Glad you liked the arc, though you seem to be taking things in a… bit of a different direction to say the least…**

**Jose: Thanks, yes, Helga isn't always a very empathetic person but sometimes strike close to home.**

**Veganmama: More with Brainy coming soon!**

**Princess Hinata: Thanks, glad you're enjoying it!**

**Next: I haven't decided yet! But when I do, you'll see it!**


	17. The Date

Chapter 16

The Date

-BRIAN-

It's a miracle.

She said yes.

By some strange quirk of fate, Helga G. Pataki has agreed to go out with me, Brian C. Bartlett. The princess is giving the frog a chance.

…

…oh crap, she said yes. Now I actually have to think about what we're going to do. I'm not ready for this. I am absolutely not ready for this. Not in a million years. What am I going to do? I never even entertained the possibility that she would give me a shot, but she did. What am I going to do? What am I going to do? I never planned for this!

…and that, basically, is where my head's been at since leaving Spencer Beach Monday. Just trying to figure out just how I'm going to manage this date thing. Do I just take her to Chez Paris? That's the most zero-effort thing imaginable. Some sort of secluded moonlight dinner? No, no, no, way too forward. She just got out of a break-up. I can't just go right to gooshy romantic stuff. Wouldn't be proper.

First and foremost, I need to get her relaxed. The absolute last thing I need to do is go all high-pressure on her so soon after Arnold left. What I really, really, need is a low-pressure situation… maybe some kind of group-activity… Something light, fun… stupid…

I was on Mulberry street when I saw it. The cheesiest, silliest possible diversion I could possibly take her on.

The germ of an idea was there, then. I just had to get everything else into place.

* * *

"_Why, hello, Brian. I must say, I wasn't expecting to hear from you. Did you perhaps misdial Helga's number?"_

"Hey, Phoebe. No, no, this was on purpose."

"_Mmm-hmm… am I to assume you're seeking advice regarding your Saturday night excursion with my dearest and closest friend?"_

Of _course_ Phoebe saw me coming. Why should I have expected otherwise from the valedictorian of both sixth and eighth grade? "Well…"

"_Well… I would be happy to help you, but first, I need to make something clear. Helga has spent nearly all of her life devoted to a single man, perhaps to a point that was not entirely healthy. This is the first time she has even considered entertaining alternate romantic options. Of course, as her best friend, I firmly back her on that decision, as I am obligated to back all her decisions. Nevertheless… and I am telling you this in the strictest confidence… she is more vulnerable than she lets on. If you treat her well, that will be the end of it. But if you hurt her, in any way, then there will be no place on Earth that you can hide. Wherever you go, whatever you do… I will find you, and I will fucking end you. Are we clear?_

I gulped. "Crystal."

"Great!" And like that, her cheerful tone was back as if she hadn't just threatened to murder me. _And she looks so sweet on the outside. Mental note: never, ever piss her off. _"Now that that's out of the way, how can I help you? Are you seeking advice in regards to restaurant or activity choices?"

"Actually, I kind of already have an idea of what I want to do. I was thinking we make it a group date so she doesn't feel any pressure."

"_That… actually sounds like an excellent idea. Of course, we'd have to find out who is available to join us. I'm fairly certain I can persuade Gerald to participate, but anyone else is up in the air at this point. What activity were you considering?"_

I told her.

"_I'm not going to lie to you… that sounds ridiculous. Let's do it."_

* * *

_-HELGA-_

The week after returning from the beach passed by fairly quickly. Like I've said before, my job at the bookstore isn't very demanding at all and gives me a lot of free time, and this week most of it was spent speculating on just what Brainy had planned for us Saturday night. Of course, spending a lot of time thinking about a boy wasn't exactly a new experience for me, but it was different this time. Thinking about Arnold had this hazy, daydreamy quality, even long after the two of us were officially together. The kind of thought that inspired me to crack open the Little Pink Book and churn out pages of flowery poetry. This… this was different. More grounded. More comfortable. At this point, I wasn't sure whether that was a good or bad thing.

One thing I could definitely not deny, though, was the effect this change had wrought upon my literary output. I had not written a single love poem since the breakup… but that doesn't mean I hadn't written _anything_. Rather, without my Arnold obsession driving me, my writing had taken on a broader range of subject matter. Just two days ago, I had been inspired to write an entire ballad based on a wrestling match I had seen on TV. And while I wouldn't call it some of my best work, I must admit that I went to some pretty creative places. And it wasn't just poetry that I was turning out… I had decided to indulge another longtime hobby of mine and start up a blog discussing and rating my favorite horror movie series, starting with the Evil Twin pentology. I had maybe a dozen followers so far… hardly Nadine's Tic gaming stream or Peapod Kid's… whatever the hell you called that weird influencer schtick of his, but it wasn't half bad to have people paying attention to what you had to say.

I was even thinking of getting into longform fiction. While _One for the Books_' inventory was, to put it mildly, highly eclectic, one thing it could boast was an extensive collection of detective literature, from the hardboiled pulp era to modern. And so, with so much to dive into, with everything from Chandler to Evanovitch at my fingertips, I found myself really getting into the genre, and the seeds of creating my own detective were beginning to germinate. So far, all I had was a name… Cecile Hart. Because all my reading had taught me was that the most important part of creating a character was coming up with a name that could me milked for endless pun-based titles.

And so, this was how I spent my week, goofing off at work and writing my review of _Evil Twin IV: Double Double_ (short review: this one was kind of phoned in since the original Evil Twin director had moved on to work on the _Die Laughing_ series and they'd hired some hack who previously directed Yahoo soda commercials). Eventually, Saturday afternoon arrived, and with it, a text from Brainy telling me to meet him downstairs.

_-Now? _I texted back. -_I'm not exactly dressed for a date at the moment. I thought we were going to do this in the evening._

_-Can't do that. The place we're going closes at 6, _he returned.

What kind of date place closes at 6 on a Saturday? Where was he taking us? Even Guiseppe Giraffe's Fun-Time Pizza Playhouse, a place we outgrew ages ago, stays open 'til at least 7. -_Where are we going? _I asked.

-_It's a surprise, _he replied.

_-I'm not a huge fan of surprises_, I reminded him. _-At least until you've earned the right to surprise me._

_-Fortune favors the bold, _he responded enigmatically.

Well, fine. Okay. I was at least a little intrigued. _-Can I have a few minutes to change?_ I asked.

_-What you're wearing now is probably fine. _Huh. So it's definitely not something fancy. I guess he figured that wasn't thee route it took to impress me.

Well, if what I was wearing was fine, then he'd better be okay with old jeans, a black _Raid on Bungling Bay _T (swag from the beach trip), and pink sneakers. Because that was what I was going to be wearing. I tied my hair back with my trademark pink ribbon and took the elevator down to meet him. He was standing in front of a hired Ryde car when I arrived. "Last chance," I said. "You can back out now if you want. I'm well aware I'm not exactly an easy person to date."

"Hey, if years of your fist in my face haven't scared me off by now, they're not gonna finally succeed today," he remarked with an assured (and yes, cute) smile. "You'll need to put this on, by the way." He handed me a long, wide strip of black cloth.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're blindfolding me?" I asked. "I thought this was a date, not a cult initiation. Is this where I disappear into a bunker for two decades with your ten other wives until I finally get rescued and they write a Webflix miniseries about me starring Cara Delevingne?"

"Oh, no, god no! I'm just trying to add an air of mystery to the whole proceeding!"

"Rats. I think she'd be perfect in the role. Oh well." I tied on the blindfold. "You realize that by doing this, you've raised my expectations to ridiculous heights that the reality almost certainly can't live up to?"

"Well, I do now," he admitted.

"Oh, relax, Brany, I'm just messing with you," I said, elbowing him in the side… or where I thought his side was, which it turned out was not where I elbowed. "You might need to help me into the car."

"Don't you have X-Ray vision?"

"Not even when my powers are on."

"Oh. I don't know why I thought you did." He gently took me by the elbow and eased me into the car and I had to admit it felt pretty nice. Not Arnold nice, but well, he's still an impossible standard in my mind and I'm reasonably sure that even if I somehow manage to wean myself off him, I'm probably still going to be unreasonably comparing every boy I'm with to him. Still, I suppose it's a sign of growth that I'm giving him a decent chance to break through my resistance, right?

I felt the car start up and we drove. I tried to mentally picture Hillwood's layout in my mind to see if I could determine where Brainy was taking us, but the driver took so many seemingly random turns (and I'm fairly certain Brainy had advised her to do so beforehand for the sole purpose of preventing me from doing exactly what I was doing), that I very quickly lost my bearings and gave up on trying to guess where the day was going to take us.

Finally, the car rolled to a stop, with me none the wiser. "Okay, we're here!" Brainy confirmed, helping me out of the car. "You can take off your blindfold now!" he advised.

"All right, but if t turns out this _is_ your secret cult bunker you can forget about a second date." I removed my blindfold and took a look in front of me. Then I looked around to make sure that I wasn't looking at the wrong thing, but it seemed unlikely that our destination was a gas station or a carpet store. No, this was the only logical destination, no matter how ridiculous it was.

"Laser Tag?"

"Surprise!" confirmed Brainy.

"This is still a thing?"

"It's actually still shockingly popular in this state."

"And… you brought me here. For our date. This was your plan."

"Yyyyyep."

"And this is not some elaborate fake out and you're not ging to lead me through the building to reveal you're actually taking me to the nice restaurant behind it."

"Nnnnope," he replied enigmatically.

I sighed. "All right. I've come this far, so let's see where this is going."

"As you wish, m'lady," he said, taking my arm.

"Promise me you don't own a fedora," I demanded of him.

"Ew. No." he replied.

"Good. Just checking." So. Laser Tag. This was really happening. "I guess we're gonna be spending the next hour or so running around with a bunch of little snot-noses pretending to shoot each other."

"Well, you're half-right," he said, holding the door open. "About pretending to shoot each other, anyway. But the 'little brats' part… not so much."

What was he talking ab-

"Well, it's about time you got here, Pataki," a familiar male voice announced. "I was startin' to grow roots."

"Gerald,' his companion scolded, elbowing him. "We are here to be supportive."

"Sorry, babe," Gerald replied to Phoebe. "You know waitin' makes me all antsy."

It wasn't just them. Curly and Sheena, Rhonda and Nadine, Eugene and Scott, Sid and Lila, and Rani and… some guy I swear I've never seen before, were all present.

"I hope you don't mind," Brainy apologized. "I was thinking you would be more relaxed if we made this a casual couples' group thing. Was I being too presumptuous?"

Too be honest, I didn't know what to expect from this date. A part of me kind of did want something a bit more… traditional. One on one. And here, Brainy had not only brought along a fifth wheel, but a sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth. And yet… he'd done it to be considerate. He knew I had just gotten out of a long-time relationship and that maybe going all-out romantic with me could drive me off. I had to admit that it was a thoughtful gesture. "Well… It wasn't exactly what I expected, but… I can work with this." I grinned evilly. "Let's own these losers."

"Oh yeah?" Rani's companion, a lanky, freckled boy with curly brown hair retorted. "Your team's the one who's gonna be owned, Pataki."

I gave him an odd look. "Do I know you?" I asked.

"Um, I'm _Nate_?" he replied as if that should mean something. After I returned a blank look. "Don't tell me you don't remember me. Nate? You mentioned me in that really nice poem at the Cocoa Hut back in fourth grade?"

Oh, shit, there really _was_ a Nate? I just used that name as rhyme filler! "Ohhh, right, _Nate_! How could I possibly forget?" I lied.

"All right," Brainy continued. "Let's get this show on the road, then."

"So, you want to play in seven teams of two each, is that it?" the counterperson, a bored-looking woman with light brown hair, asked.

"That's right," Brainy confirmed.

"Okay, we can do that," she replied. "I'll need your names, and to register a color for each of your teams."

"Helga Pataki and Brian Bartlett. Team Pink." I said.

"Gerald Johansenn and Phoebe Heyerdahl. Team blue." Gerald added.

"Sid Gifaldi and Lila Sawyer. Team green, baby!" shouted Sid.

"Rani Patel and Nate Wilkinson. Team gold."

"Rhonda Lloyd and Nadine Robinson-"

"Team red," Nadine interrupted. "As in how red your faces''ll be when we completely _humiliate_ you."

"Sweetie, these are our friends," Rhonda responded through a forced smile.

"There are no friends on the battlefield." Nadine retorted. "Only victims." I suppressed a snicker. Everyone thought of Nadine as that nice girl who chased butterflies, but few knew just how ruthlessly competitive the girl could get.

"…uh huh." the front desk woman, who I swear I've seen somewhere before, replied, ignoring her. "much as I'm _fascinated_ by your group's internal dynamics, can we move on?"

"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe and Sheena Kacjynszki."

"It's spelled like it sounds," added Sheena unhelpfully. "We're team silver."

"Scott Morgan and Eugene Horowitz-"

"Team MAUVE!" interrupted Eugene enthusisastically.

"…I'll just put down purple," the woman stated flatly. "So, that's fourteen guns, fourteen sensors, and, since these are real lasers and you can totally blind yourselves if you're not careful, fourteen sets of protective goggles." She reached behind the counter to provide the requested equipment. "Oh, and also, so we don't get sued if you do manage to blind yourselves…" She produced a stack of forms. "Fourteen legal waivers. Have a non-litigious day."

* * *

_Many signatures and a suit-up sequence later…_

The arena consisted of a large, open central area punctuated by towerlike structures, surrounded on three sides by a network of labrynthine corridors. Lots of possibilities for any strategy.

"_Okay, here's how it works,"_ the bored-sounding woman's voice echoed over the arena's intercom. "_You all have two minutes before the sensors become active, so you're going to want to use that time to get a feel for the maze and find a good position for your team. Once the sensors activate, you get hit, you're out. The LEDs on your chest sensor will light up in the color of the team that got you. Last team standing wins. If there's a tie after the clock runs out, the winner will be decided by who gets the most kills? Any questions? Too bad, because the intercom's only one-way. The round starts… now."_

At the chime, the teams all began to scramble for position, most of them making for the labyrinth of passages. "So, what's the plan, Brainy?" I asked.

"You see those walkways up there?" I looked up: Sure enough, there was an entire second level of walkways up there, connected by the tower structures. "There's a way to get up there. We manage that, we have the high ground and we'll be able to pick everyone else off at our leisure."

"Yeah, but won't everyone else have the same idea?" I asked.

"True, but I happen to know exactly where the hidden stairway is." He gestured to one of the passages in the northern set of corridors. "That way."

We ran for it. "You okay running?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. The fog's actually good for my sinuses."

We made our way into the corridors, but were unable to make it to the stairway before a chime started. "_You are now all active targets,"_ the announcer said in her flat tone. "_Congratulations_."

"Damn, I thought we'd be faster," Brainy said. "Be ready. Death can come from any angle."

"Gotcha!" a cheerful voice announced from the left. Eugene and Scott had found us.

"Okay, you got us," I said.

"I'm really sorry," Eugene replied apologetically. "To be fair, why don't I spin around a couple of times before I fire to make it more fair?"

"Eugene, I don't think that's a good i-" Scott began, but Eugene was already in motion. As he spun, the gun slipped out of his hands and fell, going off and hitting both of them. "Well, I have to admit, we lasted longer than I thought we would."

"Yep! See you guys later!"

"Well, that was a thing that happened," I commented. "But the rest probably won't be so easy."

Somewhere in the maze, I could hear two laser noises and Sid's tell-tale wail, signaling his and Lila's elimination. We were down to five teams now. I hushed Brainy, and led him away from the noise. "Listen for footsteps," I whispered. He nodded and we hugged the wall as we turned the corner. As we did, Rani and Nate emerged from the corridors to the right and left, both drawing a bead on us. I forced Brainy to duck with me and the two took each other out.

"Sorry," Nate said.

"I'm breaking up with you," Rani responded, fuming.

Nate shrugged. "That's fair."

There were three teams left against us, but we had made it to the stairway to the second level. Soon the high ground would be ours.

Unfortunately, it turned out Gerald and Phoebe's team had gotten the same idea. And they got the drop on us. And unlike Eugene, those two were very unlikely to screw up.

"Hey," I said. "Maybe you could give us a head-start? Since we've been BFFs so long?"

"Hmm… she repled. "It's true. You've been my best friend as long as I can remember. On the other hand…" She drew her pistol. "Mercy is for the weak."

"Damn, girl, remind me never to forget our anniversary," Gerald remarked.

Phoebe fired, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as Brainy leapt in front of me to intercept the beam. The telltale electronic whine of the sensor told me that Phoebe had hit her mark."

"Brainy?" I asked, catching his falling form. Brainy?"

"Are… you okay?"

"You… you took a fake laser beam for me."

"I'd do it again. And even a third time. The only regret… I have… *cough* is that I'll never see you smile… again…" And with one last cough, his eyes closed, a smile on his face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I shouted to the heavens, cradling his body.

"…This is still fake, right?" asked Gerald.

"Shhh, they're having a moment," Phoebe replied, nudging him.

"I swear to you, you will be avenged," I said. "Whatever it takes. "

"Okay, moment's over," Phoebe said, firing, but I ducked, rolled and fired twice, taking out both Phoebe and Gerald.

"Rest well, my sweet prince," I said.

Brainy opened one eye. "So, maybe pizza after the game's over?"

"Yeah, I could go for that. Now go win… for us." He fell over and closed his eye again.

Right… who was left…

I heard a distant tapping in second-level corridors that connected to the walkways. "Helga Pataki…. Come out and pla-ay…" an eerie falsetto sounded. Curly? I couldn't tell. It sounded like something he would say, but the voice was off. Judging the direction of the voice I tried to circle around to outflank it.

"*tap tap tap* Helga Pataki… come out and pla-ay…" The voice echoed again, but seeming to come from the exact opposite corner it had before. It was me who was being outflanked.

Well, then. I go down fighting.

The tapping grew closer. I flattened myself against the wall, eyes darting back and forth looking for the first opponent to emerge.

They never came. Two quick shots and two electronic whines. "Aw, c'mon!" Curly's voice shouted.

"I thought you were out?" Sheena's voice added.

"That's what I wanted you to think," Nadine's voice replied. _Keep talking_, I thought_. Keep it up so I can sneak up on you_. "Next time you kill me, make sure you finish the job."

I peered around the corner. There she was, basking in the glow of her kill. All I had to do was get a clear shot at her sensor. Which meant I had to risk drawing her attention. I coughed loudly, hoping she'd whirl around reflexively to nail me. What I did not expect was for her to grab Sheena and use her as a shield while preparing her own shot. Then again…. I probably should have. Like I said, Nadine is ruthlessly competitive.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?" She asked.

"In the end…. Yeah. I kinda did," I said, as I dramatically fell.

"Can you believe Rhonda's never seen that movie?"

"I know, right? She's ignorant of so much classic cinema. You're not doing your job, girl."

"Hey, I'm trying, but we have a lot of ground to cover."

"_Red team wins,"_ the cashier/announcer, er, announced. _"Congratulations and huzzah."_

"If you'll excuse me, I have to go find my girlfriend's 'body' and tell her I've avenged her." Nadine said.

"Right, see ya around, Bug Girl." I had a partner of my own to find.

He was chilling right where I left him. "So, you're dead too now, huh," he said.

"Yep, 'fraid so. It's not as bad as I thought it'd be, honestly."

"Yeah, you kinda get used to it quickly."

"So…. Interesting first date," I said.

"Interesting as in 'I had fun," or interesting as in 'may you live in interesting times?'"

"Well, let's just say this; odds are looking pretty good that I'll say yes to a second date. But it's okay if you wanna go a little more traditional for the next one."

"Hmm… maybe I will, maybe I won't," he said.

"Keeping me in suspense, Brainy?"

"Of course. That's what makes it fun."

* * *

**A.N.: And there it is, Helga and Brainy's first date! I could've done something a bit more normal, but where's the fun in that? **

**If you're wondering who the manager of the laser tag place is supposed to be, it's none other than Pet Shop Girl, who has decided to move on to a job that involves slightly less feces. Can you blame her?**

**Jose: Thanks, yes, Wolfgang's upbringing has a lot to do with how he acts. Notice his dad is also named after a composer (Mahler, in his case), marking him as something of a bully himself.**

**Veganmama: Thanks! I've read far too many fics where Rhonda's relegated to the role of the stereotypical High School Mean Girl, and I feel like her character's more complex than that. I'm glad you appreciate it.**

**Thanks for the kind words, faves and follows, everyone! See you next time!**


	18. Play Date

**A.N.: Sometimes you have no idea what you're going to write, and then you just happen to see just the right episode to inspire you. In this case, it was "Baby Oskar." Seeing that episode made me realize that, with Susie now married to Lila's dad, Baby Oskar (well, in this timeframe he's obviously no longer a baby) would now be Lila's cousin, and the rest sorta fell into place. It's nice how things line up like that sometimes, isn't it?**

**So, yes, this chapter's going to be short, but it's just the setup for a Lila-focused arc. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 17

Play Date

_-LILA-_

I've always been a big Disney fan, but there's one thing I must say that they got very, very wrong. It turns out that stepmothers are actually pretty great.

I am ashamed to admit that at first, I was resistant to the idea of my father dating again. After years of it just being the two of us, the thought that my mother could just be replaced horrified me. And, I'm sorry to say that this caused me to lash out, even to the point of plotting to find a way to drive them apart.

I would like to say that I eventually came to my senses, and I suppose I was on my way there, but fate got in the way. And by fate, I mean nearly dying at the hands of armed mercenaries, going through a painful metamorphosis in a desperate attempt to save my life, becoming convinced that I actually had died and was being tortured in hell (my therapist called it 'post-traumatic dissociative disorder", but I can only tell you what it felt like at the time), and oh, let's not forget the demonic possession. As you can imagine, all of that was a giant speed bump on my road to reconciling with Suzie, but I'm glad to say that it was one we got past. After all, Suzie hadn't exactly signed up to be mother to a traumatized mutant when she started dating Daddy, but she rose to the occasion and no matter how resistant I was, I couldn't help but see that she was willing to put in the work, and well, if she was willing, what did it say about me that I wasn't? And so, slowly, I allowed her into my life.

They tied the knot on July 31. And now, here we were, their fourth anniversary. Four years of having a mom again.

No lie… turns out it was pretty great.

Which was why I was in the process of making the two of them breakfast in bed. After hitting up my "big sis" Olga for idea, I'd settled on Eggs Benedict for two (thankfully, Daddy's cholesterol was down or else it would be a decidedly less romantic oatmeal for two). The bacon was frying, the English muffins were toasting, and the eggs were in mid-poach. A lot of work to be sure, but I'd taken the advantage of shifting to my alien form to give myself extra hands to work with. It's ever-so-convenient to be able to turn over the bacon and stir the Hollandaise at the same time. Sadly, my surprise was ruined when my parents came sniffing around.

"Oooh, what smells so good?" Suzie ventured.

"Uh-uh. Nope. Go back to bed."

"But bacon," Daddy mock whined.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," I said. "For your anniversary."

"Oh, dear, you didn't have to," protested Suzie.

"But I do! I want you both to know, under no uncertain terms, that I've oh-so happy to have you both in my life. Now get back to bed and wait until breakfast is ready."

"You're the boss, pumpkin," Daddy said, giving my hair a ruffle. "Oh… while I'm up though… I think it's time I gave you your anniversary present, dear."

"Now? I didn't think we'd be exchanging gifts this early."

"I guess the excitement's still there, then. Well, the traditional gift for the fourth anniversary is flowers…"

"…which I'm allergic to…"

"…or fruit. And, well, since I wanted to do better than an Edible Arrangement, I figured… we could take a nice romantic trip up to the Tieton Cider Works in Yakima!"

**[A.N. It's a real place.]**

Suzie gasped. "How did you know I've been dying to go there?"

"Well… it just so turns out I overheard you on the phone with your sister a couple of weeks ago. "The arrangements are all made. We'll be spending the night there, so, driving back won't be a problem after the tasting."

Suzie smiled back. "Oh, Larry… you didn't have to…"

"Of course I did. My wife deserves the best."

Suzie chuckled in response. "You know what Oskar got me for our fourth anniversary? His pants. He'd ripped them at the track and needed me to fix them."

Daddy sighed. "The bar's that low for me, huh."

"Yes. You don't have to go above and beyond for me. Which is why it means so much to me that you _do_," she added, embracing him with a kiss.

"Okay, you two," I scolded, "Go away. You're distracting me and the Hollandaise is going to curdle."

* * *

Some time later, breakfast was ready and assembled, and it was time to bring it in. "Knock knock… I assume you two are decent in there?"

"It's fine, you can come in, pumpkin," Daddy answered.

I entered slowly, to find Suzie in the middle of a phone call. "Mmmm-hmm," she was saying. "No, no it's fine… no, we didn't have any plans we couldn't cancel… Let me just talk it over with Larry.." She covered the receiver. "It's my sister Nancy."

"Oh, aunt Nancy?" I asked. "I don't think I've seen her in ages…"

"Well, unfortunately, Bill had a sudden case of appendicitis and they need someone to look after Oskar for a few days. I guess we'll have to cancel our trip…"

"Well, gosh, if it's an emergency, I guess we really don't have much of a choice… I just hope I can get my deposit back on short notice."

"What if I took care of him?" I asked.

"Oh, honey, are you sure you can handle it?" Suzie asked. "Boys can be a real handful…"

"Oh, yes, I'm certain I can. I've babysat before, and children just love me. You'll be back tomorrow anyway, right? I'm fairly sure I can handle little Oskar until then. You two go enjoy your anniversary."

"Well, if you're sure…" She took her hand off the receiver again. "Hello? Yes we can look after her, but would it be okay if Lila took care of him for the first day or so? It turns out Larry set up an anniversary trip for us, and getting out of the reservation could be difficult, but Lila- hmm? Sixteen, is that a problem? *pause* I assure you, she's a very responsible young lady. Oskar would be in very good hands. *pause* And we'll be back tomorrow. Is it okay then? *pause* Good. You can bring him over any time, then." She hung up. "Well, good news, Nancy says it's all right if you look after Oskar until we're back."

"Thank you! I promise I won't let you down!"

"I have no doubt you won't, dear," Suzie replied.

* * *

"All right, Oskar, you remember your cousin Lila, right? She'll be taking care of you until Uncle Larry and Aunt Suzie are back tomorrow. I want you to be a good boy for her, okay?"

"Hello, Oskar!" I said. I'd changed, both clothing and species-wise. It wouldn't do to let a six-year-old that I barely saw in on my secret. "I'm certain we're going to have ever so much fun!"

"I'm _certain_ we're going to have _ever_ so much _fun_!" Oskar parroted in a mocking voice.

"Oskar!" scolded Aunt Nancy. "I'm so sorry, he's kind of going through a phase… Oskar, I'm serious, I need you to behave…"

"Why? Girls are _stupid_," he replied, scowling.

"I'm really, really sorry," repeated Aunt Nancy.

'It's all right, I'm not offended."

"It's _all right_, I'm not-"

"Oskar! Behave!"

Ignoring his acting out, I asked "Is there anything I should know about? Allergies, fears, that sort of thing?"

"No, nothing like that. Well, Good luck, dear. You know where you can reach me if there's an emergency."

"Thank you, Aunt Nancy. I promise I'll take really good care of him."

* * *

Once Aunt Nancy and my parents had left, I was alone with Oskar. "Well, what shall we do now?" I asked. "It's a nice day… perhaps we could go to the park?"

Oskar huffed, walked over to the couch and plopped himself down. "Where's the video games?" he demanded. So that was how it was going to be…

"We don't have any here," I informed him. "Sorry."

"Hmmph. Figures. Girls don't like video games."

"Well, I'm certain that's not true… in fact, one of my friends has a pretty popular gaming channel."

"Yeah, right,"

"It's true. Here, let me show you." I probably shouldn't have let him bait me like this, but I had to defend my gender. I brought up Nadine's TubeTube channel on my phone. "See? She's got a whole bunch of videos here. Thunder Sigil… Last Legend… Evil Spirits… Ninja's Code… I'm not really familiar with any of these games, so I don't know which ones would be appropriate for a six year-old, but take it from me, she knows what she's doing."

"Probably plays 'em all on easy," he dismissed.

"Well, in any case, I, personally, don't have any video games and it would be a shame to be stuck inside on such a beautiful day anyway. So, after lunch, we are going to the park. If you behave yourself, we can get ice cream later. How does that sound?"

He shrugged. "…fine, I guess."

I smiled. Battle number 1 won. I am ever-so _nailing_ this.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

_Monkeyman's Journal, July 31, 2022_

_The scum of the street usually melts away into the shadows at first glimmer of morning light. Yet, evil never truly sleeps, it simply hibernates. It crawls into its secluded deans of sin and iniquity to grow and fester until it once again metastasizes in the pale moonlight of the night, seeping back onto the streets in an orgy of mixed metaphors and overwrought symbolism…_

"…eh, forget it, I don't know where I was going with this." Richard "Monkeyman" Andrews clicked the stop button on his personal tape recorder. Actually listening to his internal narrative out loud simply drove home how ridiculous it sounded.

Truth told, Monkeyman wasn't feeling all that relevant these days In Hillwood, between the reorganized Public Safety Force and those four new alien superheroes, there wasn't exacty a ton of room for an ordinary guy in monkey slippers. Sure, there was the occasional mugging that they couldn't get to in time, but that wasn't often, and while the new girls got headlines and merch and apparently a magical girl-style anime in Japan, all he got was funny looks. These days, he was on the verge of hanging it all up and seeing if maybe he couldn't get a job at the zoo to be near his beloved monkeys.

He was about to back it in for the morning and head back to his aunt's house when, passing by Bobo's Two o' Diamonds Tavern, he was just barely missed by a body being hurled through the front window. Now, Bobo was known to get rough with the more ornery drunks who refused to move on when Bobo cut them off, but one: it was well after last call, two: he wouldn't wreck his own window, and three: the person who almost hit him was, in fact, Bobo himself.

"Oh my gosh, are you all right?" Monkeyman asked, worried.

"Eh… I been thrown though stuff before," the proprietor answered, rubbing his jaw. "Some no good punk came in, I told him we were closed, but he just shoved me aside and started grabbin' bottles. I tried ta make wit' da reasonable discoursing but he objectified in a very strenguous manner, as you can see." He stretched. "Didn't think he'd be so strong considerin' how sick he looked. He was all green an' stuff."

Monkeyman took a look inside through the shattered front window. Behind the bar, he could see a massive man lounging, guzzling beer directly from the tap with one hand while looking over a bunch of bottled of various potent potables with the other. The man was impossibly huge… Monkeyman wagered at least eight feet tall, and made of solid muscle. His skin was a pale green, and he had a mane of tangled blck hair with what looked like insect-like antennae sticking out at the top. He also had blood-red pupil-less eyes, no visible nose, and sharp teeth. Yep, this guy definitely wasn't from around here.

Common sense would have suggested that Monkeyman's best option was to see if he could get in touch with one of the superheroes with actual powers, but he was feeling particularly useless that day and his ego demanded that he, himself, make the first effort to do intervene. Logically, one could guess that this would end in disaster given that the newcomer was a solid brick wall while Monkeyman was a scrawny weakling, but logic wasn't in play at the moment. And so, Monkeyman marched right to the tavern's mysterious invader and demanded "All right, I think it's time for you to leave.

The intruder looked the urban crimefighter over dismissively. "Who the frell are you, bonebag?" he retorted.

"I'm Monkeyman, and I protect this city," Monkeyman responded, his confidence beginning to flag.

"Heh heh. 'Monkeyman'. Ain't that redundant?" The brute lazily drew himself to his full height. "Lemme guess… if I don't leave, you're gonna make me."

"If it comes to that."

"Heh heh heh… what the yatz, I'm feelin' charitable-like today. Give it yer best shot, little monkey."

"All right… if you insist," Monkeyman replied, delivering a karate chop to the man's side. It was basically about as effective as karate-chopping a slab of concrete. Monkeyman howled in pain as he cradled his injured hand.

The intruder glanced at him casually. "That was it? That was your best shot? Grife, this planet is a bigger joke than I thought, if you're the best it has to offer."

"Just… ow… getting an idea of your strength…"

The intruder laughed heartily, biting the neck off a bottle of tequila, spitting it aside, and chugging its contents in a single gulp. "Lissen, shrimp, count yerself lucky you ain't worth my time. It means y'get t'live. I'm here for big game. You ain't even worth a space on my bathroom wall."

"You'll eat those words in a second," Monkeyman retorted, reaching for his… oh, right, the exploding Bananarang was still in the design phase. "Well… not a second. But in a reasonably short amount of time…"

"Uh huh. Look, kid, I'm givin' ya a chance to run, so whyncha take it? Go tell someone who matters, that Oso is in town, an' he's lookin' for a real challenge."

"Oso, like, Spanish for 'the Bear', 'cause I can kinda see that…"

"Actually, it's an Irken dialect for 'He who eviscerates you with his bare hands and delights in the experience. In other words, small fry… ya just dodged a disintegration beam."

* * *

**A.N.: Yep, remember this guy? I told you he'd be back! And he's going to be on a collision course with our girls. We're talking full-blown superhero action. And since I wasn't done with the rip-o- I mean, **_**homages**_**, Bobo is based on Superman supporting character Bibbo.**

**Jose: You caught Warriors but not Kill Bill. I'm disappointed. Shame on you. :) Nah, but seriously, good eye.**

**Penguin Lord: Oh yeah, she seems sweet and docile but don't get on her bad side.**

**Next: The play date continues, but does Lila have what it takes to deal with a bratty six-year-old **_**and**_** an alien hunter? Actually, the hunter may be the easier part.**


	19. Something Here from Somewhere Else

Chapter 18

There's Something Here from Somewhere Else

_-LILA-_

So: I've been tasked with watching my six-year-old cousin Oskar for the next day or so. Easy, right? I've babysat plenty of times before, so I should basically know what to do, right?

That's what I thought, but Oskar doesn't wat to get with the program. I practically had to drag him to the park, and once we got there he plopped himself on a bench and stopped moving, as if he was in some kind of silent protest of my teenage female tyranny. Oskar is going through his "Girls are stupid" phase, which I am familiar with… a lot of people I knew were firmly stuck in this phase until the age of nine.

"You know," I prompted, "there are plenty of other kids here. Don't you want to go play with them?" I gestured over to the playground area.

"Those are all little kids," Oskar replied, scowling. "I don't play with little kids."

Maybe I was mistaken, but a lot of them didn't really look all that much younger than Oskar did. They ranged in age, if I had to guess, from four to seven. There was even one familiar face in the crowd, Rhonda's oh-so-adorable little sister Rhia, most likely here with her nanny. I was kind of hoping that maybe I could nudge the two into becoming friends, but given Oskar's rather… recalcitrant attitude to girls, not to mention the two-plus-year age gap between the two, it was looking unlikely at this time.

"Well… it has to beat sitting here sulking, right?" I insisted. "Come on. It's a lovely day. Too lovely to waste."

Oskar crossed his arms and huffed. "Don't wanna," he said tersely.

Well, then, I didn't want it to come to this, but it was time to break out the nuclear option. "That's too bad," I said. "Pouty Peters don't get ice cream." _Pouty Peters? _I'm really glad no one I know was around to hear that. I have enough of a reputation as a sickly-sweet goody-goody as it is.

"You said you'd take me for ice cream!" he complained. "You hafta!"

"I'm certain I don't," I replied. "If you recall, your mom asked you to behave, and you don't seem to be doing that at the moment. If you want ice cream later, you have to hold up your end of the bargain."

"FINE," The boy groused, stomping toward the playground. I allowed myself a small smirk. So far, I was winning the battle of wills. And sure, the boy probably hates me right now, but he will eventually come to appreciate me.

I watched as Oskar grudgingly made his way to the jungle gym, where Rhia was hanging. "Hi!" The girl said brightly. "Wanna play?"

"I don't play with _girls_," retorted Oskar gruffly.

"Why?" Rhia asked guilelessly.

"Because they're stupid. They can't do anything."

"I'm doing something," Rhia responded. "I climbed up here and now I'm hanging here. That's 'doing something.'"

"I bet a boy helped you," Oskar refuted sullenly.

"Nuh-uh, I did it all myself. I'm the best climber in preschool. Everybody says so."

"Are not."

"Uh huh," she said, dropping down onto the padding underneath. "Wanna see me do it again?"

"You're makin' it up. An' anyway, I bet I can do it better'n you, 'cuz I'm a boy an' I'm bigger."

"Then let's have a race. If I win, you have to admit girls are as good as boys."

"No way."

"I think you're scared I'll beat you," the little girl said with a smirk.

"No way you can beat me. Boys beat girls at everything."

"Uh uh. My sister says I'm good enough to do anything."

"I bet she just says that because she's stupid like you."

"Oh yeah? Shows how much you know! My sister's a - … oh, wait. I'm not sposed to talk about that. Anyway, I bet you're just saying no 'cause you think you can't beat me."

"Sure I can!"

"Then prove it!"

"Okay, fine! I will!" The two took positions on opposite sides of the jungle gym and began to scramble upward, and despite Oskar's slight size advantage (like her sister, Rhia was taller than average), Rhia managed to squeak out a win. _You show 'em, sister. _Okay, maybe it was a bit unfair of me, given that Oskar is supposed to be family, but he really did need a bit of an attitude adjustment.

"There, see? I beat you," Rhia proclaimed triumphantly.

"You cheated," Oskar replied stubbornly.

"HOW?" asked Rhia incredulously.

"I dunno… you just did! And anyway… I bet you can't make it all the way across the monkey bars!"

"I bet I can do it faster than you!" Rhia retorted.

I smiled to myself. Looks like Oskar had managed to make a friend in spite of himself.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

In the Two o' Diamonds, Oso was taking a break from draining whatever interesting bottles he could find behind the bar. He had to give the primates their due… they may be mentally-crippled savages, but they knew how to brew them some potent potables. Not that Oso was too surprised… he'd been all over this galaxy, pretty much the first thing most races did upon achieving sapience was find some way to dilute it, whether through edible, drinkable, injectable, inhalable, or other means. It was a universal constant; once folks were smart enough to understand the realities of life, the next thing they wanted was a means to make themselves stupid again.

Oso himself was no stranger to this. An Irken half-breed, there was no place for his kind in the Empire. Which was fine with him. Oso couldn't care less about conquering and invading. His only passion was for the hunt. Testing his skills against the most dangerous the universe had to offer, and coming out on top with a hunk of his quarry to mount on his wall. Of course, hunting wasn't a cheap past time, so he took odd jobs to finance it… bounty hunting, assassinations, or whatever other dirty work the client wanted. He wasn't to particular about it, since a being of his talents could command whatever price he wanted.

At the moment, he'd had enough credits saved up to go after the most legendary prey of all, the Ka'Thaari Space Dragon. Every hunter dreamed of hauling home the head of one of those massive six-legged, three-eyed beast. Conquer one of those babies and they'd be singing songs about you in every cantina from here to Polaris for a century. Unfortunately, they'd been hunted to near extinction ages ago. But Oso had never given up, and he'd tracked a fragment of the Ka'Thaari homeworld here, to this planet, to this city….

…and come up empty. If there had been a Ka'Thaari dragon here, there certainly wouldn't be anything else alive. Ka'Thaari would be apex predators on a backwater world like this one. And yet, this city was absolutely crawling with the dominant monkey-oids, not to mention other forms of life.

But he was still detecting Ka'Thaari signatures… distorted, but there. Something needed to be investigated. So, while he'd quenched his thirst, he'd had his equipment pin down the Ka'Thaari signatures' locations, and was shocked to learn there were not one, but four in this city. Four Ka'Thaari. One was a treasure by itself. Four? He could retire. The closest was not far from here in some kind of recreation space.

Well, then. Break time was over. It was time to get back down to business.

* * *

_-LILA-_

"C'mon, Lila, you got to time us," prodded Oskar. "How else are we gonna know who's faster?"

"Al right," I said, smiling. This really was working out quite nicely. "But you know I can't play favorites, right? Even if you _are_ my cousin."

"That's fine. There's no way she's faster." Rhia stuck her tongue out at him behind his back and I did my best to suppress a giggle. _Those two are so going to date someday._

Any racing had to be put on hold, though, when emergency sirens began to blare. The last time they'd gone off was for the big flood of '19 a few years back. I seriously doubted that that was the cause this time, as the weather was supposed to be perfectly clear for at least the next two days. Whatever it was, though, the message was clear; something was seriously wrong.

The message was enforced as a PSF car slowly came down the streets, the officer broadcasting a "Please clear the streets. Return to your homes. This is not a drill." message.

"Excuse me," I asked, flagging down the officer. "What's going on?"

"We can't exactly say," she replied. No straight answer, hm? Obviously something that could potentially cause a panic, or they'd be more forthcoming with details. I wondered what it could possibly be, and whether it could demand personal attention. Unfortunately, there was no way I could leave Oskar alone, especially if there truly was an emergency.

"C'mon, Oskar. You heard the officer. We have to go home."

"But you sa-"

"We have ice cream in the freezer. Okay? Now, come on…"

"All right," he said. He walked over to Rhia, whose nanny had come to collect her. "I guess we'll never know who wins. "

"It's okay. I had fun. Bye, Oskar! Let's play again sometime!"

"…bye…" Oskar replied. D'aw.

"Well, let's g-"

And then it came out of nowhere.

Or rather, he. He landed directly in front of us. Eight feet tall if he was an inch, looking like nothing so much as an outlaw biker on every possible steroid. But green. And noseless. With antennae. Antennae that twitched as he looked us over. I tensed up, placing myself between him and Oskar, ready to act. Secret identities were one thing, but if this guy was a threat, it was the least of my concerns if people found out what I am. I'd morph right here in front of everyone if I needed to, my secret, and my new top, be damned.

"I'm sorry,' I managed in my best nonchalant voice. "Can I hep you?"

"It's you," he said.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're taking about." _Stay calm, don't provoke him, don't let him see you sweat. _

"Oh, you do. You know you do. I can smell it on ya." How? He has no nose! "You ain't like the other monkeys. There's somethin' different about ya. Somethin' that ain't from here. Somethin' from somewhere else." He grinned, a wide grin full of sharp teeth. A shark's grin. "You got Ka'Thaari in you, girly."

Ka'Thaari… apparently, that was the planet the alien DNA intermingled with my own, coursing through my teal blood, came from. So this guy, obviously some kind of alien himself, I mean, what else would he be, knew all about it. I could continue to lie to him, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be of any use. "What is it you want?" I asked.

"Well… ultimately, yer head," he replied. "See, Ka'Thaari are the rarest trophy creatures in the galaxy. Although, you don't exactly look like one, I bet I can get at least a decent amount of credits."

Okay, let's review. A huge, hulking alien just showed up right in front of me and of me and told me, in no uncertain terms, that he wants nothing more than to chop of my head. I should be scared out of my mind.

_OF COURSE I'M SCARED OUT OF MY FUCKING MIND!_ (Yes. Fucking. I think words I would never say.) The moment the guy appeared I was literally so paralyzed with fear I couldn't run even if I wanted to! But then I remembered it wasn't just me. I had to be strong for Oskar's sake. Besides… he could have easily just taken my head already if he wanted to. He was close to twice my size and built like a tank, while I had almost no powers in this form save rapid healing, which wouldn't do much to reattach my head to my body.

"Of course, doin' it right here an' now wouldn't be sportin' would it," he continued, which I must admit did explain things nicely. "You gotta give me a good fight first."

"I'm… not sure I would be much of a fight," I said nervously. "You're clearly far bigger and stronger than I am."

He snorted dismissively. "We both know that's a load'a trash. If you got Ka'Thaari in you, then you got fight in you. Even if you ain't showin' it now."

"Lila…?" questioned Oskar fearfully. Lord only knew how scared he was. "What's goin' on? Why does the green guy want to hurt you?"

Well, there was no hiding it now. "I'm… what you call 'special,' dear."

"… you mean like that one boy in my class who-"

"No, not like him." I looked around. No one here but us. "Don't tell anyone, but… I'm a superhero." I turned back to the alien. "If it's a fight you want, well, I think we can arrange something. As long as you don't hurt any innocent people."

"I'm listenin'," the space-biker guy replied.

"There's an old quarry north of town. Let me get my nephew somewhere safe, and I'll meet you there in one hour. That's one-twenty-fourth of the time it takes this planet to rotate on its axis, for reference.

"Why can't we throw down now?" he asked.

"Because you want a real fight, don't you? And for that, I need to be in my true form. You don't think this is what I really look like, do you?"

He chuckled. "Sure. Why not. Makes no difference t'me whether I kill ya now or a – what'd ya call it? Hour? – from now."

"All right. Although… how can I trust that you will keep your word?"

"Believe me, I ain't interested in spendin' any more time on this fralkhole than strickly necessary. An' I don't waste no one for free. If they ain't worth somethin' – an' these chimps you got runnin' around sure as frack ain't – or I ain't getting' paid top cred for it, then it ain't worth my time an' talent. So don't worry yer little face-spots about it… I'll be waitin' in yer quarry, and I won't harm a hair on anyone's head until then." He grinned that horrifying grin again. "But you welch on that agreement, well… I can't say I won't get upset. An' when I get upset, I get a little… rampagey."

"Understood."

"Don't go lettin' me down now," he reiterated, leaping up into the air, whistling. In mid-air, he was intercepted by what could only be some kind of flying motorcycle. Well, it wasn't as if he didn't look the part.

"Awesome," Oskar marvelled. He looked up at me. "You're not really a superhero, are you? You just said that so he'd go away."

"Yes, actually, I really am a superhero. Let me take you back home and I'll show you."

* * *

"Well, do you believe me now?" I traded my blouse and skirt for orange stretch fabric with dark purple accents, wrist-length gloves, boots, and belt, undone my braid (it wouldn't do if Lila and Decibelle shared the same hairdo) and shifted to my alien form.

"You're Decibelle?" Oskar asked incredulously? "For real?"

"Yep," I bopped his nose lightly with my tail for emphasis. "For really real. Okay, Oskar, you wait here like a good boy, okay? I've asked Mrs. Vitello from downstairs to keep an eye on you. Just stay put." I put on the TV, where a cartoon pirate was asking the audience "Who is it who dwells in a coconut shell?" (The answer, of course, is "Andy Anemone.") "Just watch cartoons or something until I'm back."

"But Lila,"

"Please. Stay here. Be safe for me. I'll be back once I'm done."

This was a risk, to be sure, after all, out of the four of us, I'm easily the worst fighter, having had no real fight training. Phoebe was a master fencer and a red belt in Tae Kwan Do, Helga had taken Jiujitsu courses and was well-versed in wrestling, and even Rhonda had had some karate training from Arnold's grandma. Me? None whatsoever. It had never seemed important. Even as a superhero, I had never really needed to do any real fighting.

But it was okay, really.

After all… I had no intention of facing the alien alone.

* * *

**A.N.: No reviews? Really? :( I know it wasn't the most exciting chapter, and Lila's not the most popular character, but… really?**

**Well, four-on-one. Surely, this won't be too hard for our heroes, right? **

**Come on. Is it ever that easy? I'm sure Oso has some nasty tricks up his ripped-off sleeves to even those odds. **

**Next: The war machine springs to life, opens up one eager eye – I mean, uh, next time: Showdown at Toran Quarry**


	20. Three Interludes and a Prelude

Chapter 19

Three Interludes and a Prelude

_When the crisis started…_

_-PHOEBE-_

I was trying to get ahead on my summer studying when I got the call. After all, if I intended to continue on the Early Admissions track and make it to college by next fall, I couldn't exactly spend all my weekends slacking off, could I? Calculus was on the menu this afternoon. You know, light stuff.

That's when my phone went off. My phone, of course, has various alerts, and each of those alerts had its own sound cue. But there was one sound cue that was special. It was keyed to an app that did not appear on my home screen. It was a special app that could only be accessed by reading my fingerprint. Bridget had installed this particular app on all of our phones. It was designed to alert us to any unusual activity… as in the kind of thing a superhero should be made aware of. It was also used for private communications between the four of us when we weren't in costume. Basically, your one-stop superhero app. Bridget did good work.

Checking my alert, I noted I had two messages, one was a vague police alert of an unspecified "threat" downtown. The other had just come in when I picked my phone up, a message from Lila. -_Big alien biker-type guy. We're fighting at Toran Quarry up north.- _ Well, she certainly got right to the point, you had to give her that. Calc would have to wait. Alien bikers took priority.

…Alien bikers. Why on, or off of, Earth would an alien race develop biker culture? Did they pattern themselves off of Earth transmission, or were rebel biker types just some kind of universal meme? Actually, this presented some rather fascinating xeno-anthropological questions that would probably be worth pondering at a later point, when the Earth was not in danger. For now, I had a very small alien invasion to deal with.

"I'm headed out, Papa-San!" I informed after changing. "Hero business."

"Phoebe-chan, wait," he said. "Are you certain you'll be safe? I must say, this hobby of yours worries me."

"It's not a hobby, Papa. It's my duty. I'm not certain whether fate is real, or if it's just a feeling, but… I have these powers for a reason. I know it. And besides, I won't be alone."

He sighed. "Very well. But I swear, you are going to age me prematurely."

* * *

_-RHONDA-_

I was where I usually was Sunday afternoons, volunteering at the homeless shelter, doing the kitchen prep for the day. It went a lot faster these days thanks to having Wolfgang on board to help. I had to hand it to him; once you got past the whole "bullying our class for years" thing, he was actually a pretty conscientious worker when you got down to it. Case in point…

"Okay, I have to say that is very impressive. How do you do that?"

Wolfgang discarded the perfectly spiral-cut potato-peel in the trash. "What, this? You can blame that all on the Major."

"The Major"

"My dad, I mean. He made me peel potatoes whenever I did something wrong. And they had to be done a particular way. All in one strip like this."

"You… call your dad 'the Major'?" Wolfgang and I had been working together at the shelter for a few weeks now, but he'd never really talked about anything personal up until now. I'd never really thought of Wolfgang as an enigma… I mean, he seemed pretty much as straightforward as they come. I never really wondered if there was anything deeper to him because I simply never considered that there could be. He was Wolfgang. The bully jock. _And I'm Rhonda Lloyd, the fashionista gossip. People dismiss me the same way. They don't see anything deeper in me either. There's your lesson. Nobody is the stereotype they appear to be._

"Huh. Guess I do. Never really thought about it. He's just always been 'The Major' to me. He's, y'know, away a lot, and I guess even when he's here he feels more like a commanding officer than a dad…"

"Jeez. That's kinda sad, actually." I commented.

"Yeah, well, like I said, it's not something I really think about. It's just what's normal for me, you know?"

"I guess, but here's me looking at it from the outside and it seems like it's a little messed up that your relationship with your father is more like authority figure and subordinate than father and son…"

"…who asked you, anyway?" he retorted, turning back to the potatoes. "Do ever stop being nosy?"

"Hey, I don't mean to overstep, it just really stood out to me is all. We're going to be working together for a while, so… I guess I just want to get to understand you better? I'm not trying to pry I'm not trying to armchair psychoanalyze, I just want to get to know you, 'cause it turns out you might actually be a decent guy. But, all right. I'm backing off." For now. Okay, maybe I am a bit nosy.

"Good. Just stay out of my business, okay?"

"Okay. Right. Boundaries. Got it."

"…so you think I'm actually a decent guy, huh?"

"_Might_ be. I still don't know you well enough."

"But I'm growing on you, right?"

"I suppose…" It was true. He was kind of a decent guy when he was away from those idiot friends of his. And while I still had no intention of hanging out with him of my own choice, in small doses he was okay company.

"Okay," I said. "Gonna need those potatoes diced for a chowder. Think you can handle that?"

"C'mon, give me a little credit," he said.

"I'm just messing with you. You've done a really good job so far."

And that's when my phone went off… about the same time as a citywide siren. If I hadn't had my phone on vibrate at the time, I never would have known.

"Dude, what's that about?" Wolfgang asked. "Are they doing air raid drills?"

The two of us rushed out to see a black-and-white cruise by broadcasting stay inside orders. "Kinda vague," he said. "It could be anything."

"Yeah, I have to be, they're being awfully sketchy with the details." I surreptitiously slipped out my phone at took a glance. Two messages, one from Bridget and one from Lila. My eye immediately was drawn to the word 'alien'. It was immediately obvious what that siren had been about. "Uh, hey, Wolfgang? Think you can handle things by yourself a while? I have to go. It's an emergency."

"Are you crazy? Didn't you hear? We're supposed to stay indoors, and- ohhhh…"

"Yeah, it's _that_ kind of emergency." I was already headed for the back door. Once there, I would be away from prying eyes and able to let my wings out and fly home for a quick costume change. "Hopefully this won't take too long and I'll be back in time for the dinner rush."

* * *

-HELGA-

What was I doing at the time? Something I'd been putting off for way too long.

"Hey, Football-Head, how's it going?"

His ovate visage smiled back at me from the Skype window on my laptop's screen. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," he joked.

"No such luck, bucko. So, how's it going? Saved the world yet?"

"Ha. I wish. No, I haven't saved the world, but my Spanish is getting really good."

"Well, mine still sucks, so I'll have to take your word for it."

"*chuckle* I really miss you, you know."

"Wow, really? You'd think a bitch like me would be easy to get over. Especially when you're probably surrounded with all sorts of Latin hotties."

"Am I? I hadn't really noticed."

"Like hell you didn't. You're virtuous, but you're not dead."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say 'virtuous…'"

"Seriously, Arnoldo. Don't tell me you haven' so much as taken a second glance."

"…well.. a second, maybe…"

"Ha! I knew it! So… have you taken the plunge yet?"

"No! I… well, it would be lying to say I haven't given it any thought, but no… feels like it's too soon."

Ouch.

"What about you? Have you been seeing anyone?"

"No, of course not," I lied, immediately feeling a sharp guilt pang in my gut. "It's like you said. Too soon. Although if you had been seeing someone, I'd totally have been fine with it," I lied further.

"Me too," he said, though I noticed his eyes shift back and forth as he said it. _So, you're capable of lying too…_

"Well. Good to know that we're both okay with it," I said, feeling a bit less guilty now that I knew Arnold wasn't being entirely honest either. And, honestly, was I really lying when I said I wasn't seeing anyone? Sure, in the _technical_ sense, I _was_ seeing Brainy, but I wouldn't exactly call us a _couple_ or anything. Did I like Brainy? Yes, I did. He was smart, he as nice, he was capable of keeping up with me in a conversation and even challenging me on occasion. Did I _like_-like him though? I wasn't sure I was there yet, if I ever would be. So, I suppose, you could say that I haven't really moved on, right?

In fact, in a way, you could say I was being considerate by lying. After all, I know I probably wouldn't _really_ want to know if he was dating, so the same probably would apply to him, correct? So really, me lying about dating Brainy was just me being extra sensitive to how he felt, right?

It's amazing what you can justify to yourself, isn't it?

We spent the next hour or so just catching up on what had been going on in each others' lives. It was weird, just reconnecting like that after almost a month and a half. I'd been desperately avoiding this moment until now because I was sure that if I saw him, my resolve would break and I would beg him to take me back. In fact, I'd been making a conscious effort to force myself not to think of him this whole time. Sort of going cold turkey, if you will.

I don't know why I suddenly decided today, of all days, to confront my fear of speaking with Arnold again. It could be that this nebulous budding relationship with Brainy had convinced me that I could handle it, or, conversely, that it was making me feel guilty that I hadn't talked to him while dating Brainy behind his back (and yet, here I was talking to him and _still_ dating Brainy behind his back). In actuality, it turns out that it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd been dreading. I felt no urges to, say, jump the next tramp steamer to San Lorenzo (were tramp steamers still a thing? Feels like something that would've died out in the thirties) or break down crying. I was just… talking to an old friend. An old friend whose mouth had on occasion played host to my tongue. _Oh wow, I miss that. I don't think I've even kissed Brainy yet. Apart from that one time. And tat one other time, but those were both years ago. And not since I've been dating him. Not even on the cheek._

"Well, this was kinda nice, Football Head."

"Yeah, it was," he agreed. "Why didn't we do this earlier?"

"I dunno," I lied, once again. "Just been kinda busy lately."

"Well, hopefully we can still make this a regular thing. Like, maybe we can *unintelligible*"

"What'd you say?"

"I said, *unintelligible*"

"Arnold, I can't hear you. Ugh, stupid siren keeps going off… wait, why is there a siren going off?"

"Helga? I can't hear you, sounds like there's a siren going off?"

"That's what I said! I - hold on, my phone's going off now…"

"WHAT?"

Damn it, it was so hard to think with the siren going off and him yelling and this text from Lil- alien? ALIEN? Arnold, I gotta go. Big-time superhero shit going down! I promise we'll talk later! Bye!"

* * *

The three of us converged on the old quarry a few minutes early. Toran Quarry had been pretty much defunct since the fifties, once its limestone deposits had more or less been exhausted. Nowadays it was just a gaping rocky hole in the environment.

"Looks like we beat both of them here," I said. "The place looks pretty deserted."

"I don't know," Phoebe replied nervously. "My suit's sensors are picking up a very strong source of power here."

"Really?" Rhonda interjected. "And what do they say?"

Phoebe, adjusting her visor, replied, "It's… OVER NINE THOUSAND!?"

Rhonda, without missing a beat, responded, "WHAT? NINE THOUSAND THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

Heaving a deep sigh, I said. "You two have been waiting years for the opportunity to do that, haven't you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rhonda replied innocently.

I shook my head. "You guys are _dorks_. Can we get serious here?"

"Yer early." came a voice from nowhere. The three of us turned in its direction as a figure shimmered into existence. A green-skinned, red-eyed, noseless, antennae figure dressed in what I would assume are the space equivalents of denim jeans, a leather jacket with the sleeves torn off, and steeltoed boots. Yep. Alien biker. Lila's description checked out.

"Personal cloaking device?" observed Phoebe. "Intriguing…"

"So," the newcomer added, "what do we got here?"

"I dunno… copyright infringement?" I replied.

"Not to mention atrocious grammar," added Rhonda.

"Lemme cut off the guessing game right here. What we got here is Red (I can safely assume he was referring to Lila here) tryin' ta weasel out of our honorable duel by callin' in unauthorized help. An' that wouldn't be fair, would it? Gangin' up on the Prime Dude (again, I assume he's referring to himself) like that. It's a good thing I came prepared." He tapped something on his belt, and suddenly our attention was called to four blinking objects that suddenly had appeared on the battlefield.

"What are those?" Phoebe queried, reaching for her concealed sword.

"No idea," Rhonda replied, her fhands crackling with electricity, "but they're about to be sc-"

Her words were cut off by a bright flash, and then… the world stopped.

* * *

_-LILA-_

I was running a bit late for the confrontation, having had to first make absolutely sure that Oskar was safe and would be cared for before I could depart. I wasn't too worried, though. I had given the other girls plenty of time to get there and by that time they would probably have overwhelmed the invader or at least softened him up enough that he'd be easy to take out. I was well aware of my own insufficiency in fighting, but with the others to pick up my slack I could hold my own.

At least, that was the plan. The reality was quite different. When I did arrive at the quarry, I found my friends trapped in a shimmering dome of energy, frozen in varying poses of battle-readiness, as if time had stopped for them.

"Yer late," the invader announced, as I arrived, leaning up against the rocky wall of the quarry, puffing what I assumed was the alien equivalent of a cigar. "Unlike yer friends, but… they won't be bothering us." He indicated my trapped friends. "Stasis field. That's what they get tryin' t'interfere with a gentlesapients' bout. Looks like I get me four heads for the price of one. I'll finally be able t'afford that moon I've had my eye on."

"I wouldn't go making that downpayment just yet," I said, raising my upper fists and flaring my wings in what I hoped looked like an intimidating pose. "You still have to go through me."

He laughed heartily. "Well, I can't fault ya for not havin' guts, tiny." He flicked his space cigar or whatever aside.

"It's Decibelle. Not 'tiny.'"

"Oh, we're on a name basis now, eh?" He grinned that shark's grin again. "Well, then. Name's Oso, the Prime Dude. Figure you deserve the honor of knowin' who's gonna rip you apart."

Well. This was it. No one to back me up. No one to bail me out. Just me, my powers, and my wits. Against the unknown.

"Well, then, Oso," I said. "Shall we dance?"

* * *

**A.N.: Originally this was going to be the final chapter of the arc, but I figured that it would be nice to see where the other girls were during all this, and further the Helga/Brainy/Arnold and Rhonda/Wolfgang plotlines in the meantime.**

**Jose: It's all right, and thanks for the continued support. Yeah, the engame of this arc was always going to be Oso and Lila duking it out one-on-one, to have Lila truly come into her own, but I had to address why the girls don't just gang up on the guy.**

**Veganmama: Sadly Helga doesn't get to fight this particular alien this time, but she'll ger her chance in the future. After all, if one is out there, more are…**

**Caffeinatedsaiyangirl: Thanks! I'm glad you like how I'm developing Lila. If there's a pet peeve I have with a lot of HA fics, it's that a lot of characters get reduced to one-note stereotypes… Lila is so often the victim of this, and I really wanted her to not fall into her usual trap of "high school mean girl" or "Arnold's boring girlfriend who must be done away with so he can get together with Helga." Rhonda also gets a lot of this. When she's not "the bitch" (usually when Lila isn't, or as beta bitch to Lila's alpha bitch), she just shows up to host the party where plot happens. I really want them both to shine as characters. You'll be seeing Lila develop a lot more in upcoming chapters, perhaps in some surprising ways.**

**Next: And then they FIGHT!**


	21. And then they FIGHT!

Chapter 20

And Then They Fight!

_-LILA-_

"Well, then, Oso. Shall we dance?"

Oso cracked his neck back and forth. "You sure you wanna ask that?" he responded, grinning. "Cause ain't no one done the Betelgeusian Tango with me and lived to tell the tale."

"There's always a first time," I replied, hoping I sounded as confident as I wanted to. Confidence is not something that comes easy to me. The appearance of confidence, sure. That's my whole deal, everybody's always going on about how I'm perfect. Let me tell you, that's a colossal load of manure, and having grown up on a farm, I know colossal loads of manure when I see them. Nobody's perfect. Least of all me. I am riddled with flaws. Chief among them, the whole need to live up to what everyone expects me to be. They see me as perfect, so I'm compelled to be perfect, and it's a never-ending cycle, and I'm getting "oh-so" tired of it. If I really was as confident as everyone thought I was, I'd be confident enough to break out of this mold I've forced myself into. But I'm not.

Confidence, though, was what I needed right here, right now, so I did what I normally do… I tried channeling the most confident person I know. Which happened to be Helga Pataki.

We slowly circled each other around the quarry floor, taking our measure of each other. At least, I assume that's what he was doing. It's not like I would know what to do. Mainly, I was stalling, hoping he would make the first move. After all, it's not like I would. I mean, what would I do, anyway? I've never so much as thrown a punch. I was really out of my depth.

It wasn't long before he made the first move. A simple charge, probably a feint to see how I'd react. Well I didn't have much in my wheelhouse besides dodging, so I jumped for it, using my wings to carry me upward and over him. As far as I could tell, he couldn't really fly, so up here I had the advantage.

Or so I thought, until I hit an invisible barrier above me, which pushed me back down.

"Uh uh uh," he said. "No flying away, red. My perimeter force field's gonna make sure you stick around. Just keepin' things fair is all."

"Uh huh," I remarked. "Fair. "

"Yeah, see, you got a flight advantage. Can't have that. You already outnumber me in the fist department, but… " He produced a huge knife. "Let's see if we can't take care of that advantage too."

He leaped at me, swinging the knife in a clearly-telegraphed attempt to relieve me of one of my lower set of arms. I banked to the left sharply, allowing him to sail past me. "A knife? I asked. "Seriously? This is your 'fair fight'?"

"Well, yeah," he said. "Fair for me. I couldn't care less about you."

"Well, if that's the way we're playing it…." There was one very useful thing I was holding back for just the right occasion. I didn't want to show it off yet because it would be a perfect ace in the hole to catch him unawares later on. But Oso looked like he wanted to skip to the end, where I got dismembered, and I wasn't particularly interested in that. It was time for the gloves to come off.

"…then get a load of this!"

Metaphorically, I mean.

I twisted around and whipped my upper hands in his direction, unleashing a blast of concentrated sonic energy that caught him directly in the solar plexus area, knocking him back on his butt. That's what I mean by "metaphorically." The blasts are focused by speakers built into my gloves. Without 'em. I'd just be blasting unfocused noise in all directions. Powerful, yes, destructive, yes, but difficult to use effectively.

He stared, dumbfounded, for a moment. "Ka'Thaari can't do that," he protested.

"Well, I can."

All four of us have basically the same base abilities in common… the flight, the strength, the reflexes, and so forth, but each of us also developed a unique power that the others don't have. In my case, it's sound projection. Now, when Arnold's mom, Dr. Shortman studied us early on, she developed a few theories about these powers and where they came from. One was that they didn't come from our alien DNA, but were something latent locked away in the human genome, and that the merger of human and alien DNA released the potential we already had. I suppose that makes sense. I have a few of my own theories about why we developed the specific powers that we did. Helga, for example, alternates between burning passion and aloof coolness; her personality runs hot and cold, and consequentially, so do her powers. Rhonda is dynamic, charged up, always pushing forward, giving her a natural affinity for electricity. Phoebe is scientifically minded, making her a perfect fit for commanding a fundamental force.

And me? Why did I get the powers I got? Me, sweet, demure Lila Sawyer? Why the power to make loud noises? That would seem to be the exact opposite of the kind of powers you'd expect me to get.

If I had to speculate, I would guess that my powers reflect not who I am, not the Lila Sawyer I am, but the one I wish I could be. If the space virus that gave us our powers releases inner potential, then in my case, it released my inner, suppressed personality potential. The part of me that wants to be brash and loud, like my friends do.

Of course, in this costume, I'm not me. I get to be someone else. So why not let that part of me shine through?

Oh, will you listen to me. Going on about all this philosophical stuff when I'm in the middle of fighting for my life. Well, I had found my advantage, and I wasn't about to give it up. The next stretch of the fight was basically all about hurling blast after blast in Osos's general direction. I wasn't sure how long I could keep it up before I tapped out, but for now, it was working. The blasts that weren't hitting were forcing him to constantly dodge and stay on the defensive.

Eventually, though, I noticed that he was starting to be less and less affected by my blasts. Either I was weakening, or he was adapting. …no, it was definitely me. I could feel my inner reserves draining. I knew soon I would have to change tactics. And tactics were something I just didn't know about. But I was going to have to learn quickly. Just keeping up the barrage wasn't going to cut it. I needed to use my powers more strategically.

And then I saw it. The vibrations from my blasts had begun to form cracks in the rough walls of the quarry. If I could back Oso against the wall, I could possibly bring some of those loose boulders down on him. I wasn't sure if it would take him out, but it would at least slow him down enough for me to maybe buy enough time to free my girls.

So, then. Let him think maybe I've run out of juice until I can get him in a position to surprise him. That was the plan. I dropped the barrage and immediately began to dash to the side while he shook it off. He grinned. "So, fuel tank's empty, huh," he said.

"Oh, I've got plenty left," I lied. "It was just getting boring." What can I do now – ah! Right. This was a quarry. There were weapons all around me. I scooped up some loose rocks in my lower hands and started pelting them at my opponent. Rocks plus super-strength equal some pretty nasty missiles. He certainly seemed to think so, since it was actually starting to push him back. Good. He was almost where I wanted him…

When he was finally close enough, I put everything I had into one final blast. It struck true and knocked him right into the far wall the impact dislodging the boulder above and bring them down on his head. For a brief moment I worried that I'd actually killed him, but a groan from beneath put those fears to rest. Good, I didn't want a death on my conscience, even if it was the death of an alien who wanted to kill me, dismember me, mount my head, and probably sell off the rest of me as meat.

Okay, next order of business, free the girls. I made my way to where they still stood, frozen in Oso's stasis field. Something had to be projecting it, and there had to be some way to shut it down. I scanned the area. There were four small, blinking orbs that screamed "alien technology" surrounding it. I bent down to examine one of them. It was a simple red sphere that was oddly cold to the touch despite pulsing with light, and didn't seem to be made of any earthly sort of material. I could find no buttons, switches, touch panels, or anything of the like on it; it was just one seamless piece of material. It was fused to the rocky ground through some unknown means, and I couldn't pry it loose no matter how hard I tried. Destroying the thing, whether by crushing it in my own hands or smashing it with a rock, also proved impossible. I sighed. If there was a means to deactivate the field, it was likely on Oso's person and, like it or not, that would mean I was going to have to dig him out.

"This is gonna suck," I muttered to myself. Nobody was listening. No need for "oh-so's".

…heh, I'm literally fighting a guy named Oso, while lamenting my tendency to say "oh-so" all the time. Life couldn't give you a better metaphor than that, could it?

All right, it was time to bite the bullet and dig him out of there.

Well, it wasn't going to be as simple as that. Oso picked exactly that time to get his second wind, dig himself out, and fling one of those big boulders at me, giving me only enough time to roll out of the way.

"Good trick, Red," he commented. "Won't work a second time. From now on, I ain't holdin' back." He was _holding bac_k? Ohhhh, crap.

To punctuate his point, he produced a device from his belt and flung it at me. Naturally, I wasn't going to hang around to see what it was. I sprinted to the right as it detonated to the left of me in an explosion of unidentified energy. Bad move. He anticipated my dodge and threw a second one directly in my path. I was able to stop myself, but not in time to completely avoid the grenade's shockwave. It hit me like a truck, knocking me back on my own butt for a change.

"How'd ya like my sonic grenades?" he asked, though I could barely make it out. My ears were ringing, my head spinning. "Figgered if you were gonna use sonics against me, I might as well return the favor." He advanced, seeming to sway back and forth… no, wait, that was the entire world around me. I shook my head to try to steady myself and stop everything from spinning. He was coming up fast, swinging his fist on a direct course for my face. I ducked just in time.

"You're only delaying the inevitable, sweetheart," he taunted.

He was right. I was only going to be able to keep dodging him for so long, and my sonic powers were still on cooldown. As much as I dreaded it, at some point I was going to have to throw a punch.

Well, if I had to, I was going to make it count. I swung my upper right fist as hard as I could, connecting firmly with his jaw. And immediately regretted it. Unlike the other girls, I did _not _know the right way to throw a punch, and throwing a punch the wrong way _hurt_.

Still, I had scored a pretty good hit. I connected with a satisfying crack, knocking the alien's head back. He stood dazed for a moment, as if surprised less by the pain I'd inflicted than the fact I'd actually physically struck him at all. His jaw was slightly askew; it looked like I'd actually managed to dislocate it. He forced it back into place, grunting in pain, and spat a brown bloody loogie to the side. "Uggh… that really hurt. You're getting' to be a real pain, ya little green _trulg_." I didn't exactly know what trulg meant, but I assumed it had something to do with my sexual proclivities and the ease with which they could be acquired.

"I'm just getting started, asshole," I replied, rubbing my knuckles. Holy crap, I just said the A-word. Out loud. To another person. It felt so weird coming out of my mouth. I've _wanted_ to say it, sure… lots of times, but Lila Sawyer would never say such crude things!

And yet I had and the world hadn't ended. In fact… I felt more alive than ever.

He produced his knife and lunged once again, this time going directly for the throat, but somehow, that punch had awakened something primal in me, something that maybe didn't know how to fight in the formal manner, but did know how to make someone _hurt_. I dodged his knife arm as it stabbed toward me and grabbed his wrist with my two right hands, twisting it as hard as I could, forcing him to drop the knife. I followed that up by slamming my lower-left fist into what would be the solar plexus on a human. It turned out whatever species he was had something like that too, since he reacted just like a human being would. Hoping for at least one other similarity in human and alien anatomy, I brought my knee up into his crotch. A cheap shot, to be sure, but anything goes when you're fighting for your life. Another pained grunt rewarded my gamble.

This final kick knocked something loose from his belt. It was some kind of boxy thing, with a red blinking light that matched the exact blink rate as the four field generators and it probably wasn't too wild of an assumption to guess that it was the control device. I pushed Oso aside and lunged for the device as is skidded across the floor of the quarry.

"Hey!" he yelled as I snatched it up. "Give that back!"

"So I'm right. This IS important. What happens if I press _this_ panel…"

The device responded with a chirp and immediately the shimmering field around my friends faded away."

"-rap metal!" shouted Rhonda , discharging a blast of electricity from her hands at nothing. She shook her head, disoriented. "Wait, wasn't he over there? And when did Lila get here?"

Helga rubbed her temples. "Is it just me, or did everything taste sort of red there for a moment?"

"Forget this," Oso declared. "If one of you is this much trouble, I ain't dealin' with four at once. I'm outta here." He whistled for his space bike and leapt up to jump on it as it streaked by.

"Could someone please tell me what just happened?" demanded Helga.

"I kinda have to get back to my babysitting job," I said, "but I'll give you all the details later. But the short version is… I just kicked that guy's ass."

The three girls stared. "Did… you just say-" stammered Phoebe.

"Yes, Phoebe… I'm certain I did," I replied, a shit-eating grin on my face. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like someone to catch me because I'm ever-so-sure I'm about to keel over from exhaustion."

* * *

Well, I did manage to stay upright, but Rhonda was nice enough to give me an escort back home.

"You're sure you're all right?" Rhonda asked as she dropped me off.

"A bit tired, a bit dehydrated. Nothing a sports drink and a nice sit won't cure."

"Seriously though. You simply _must_ tell us how you beat that guy."

"Later. I promise I'll give you girls the full play-by-play. For now…" I let myself in. "Oskar!" I called. "I'm back! Did you behave yourself while I was-"

"LILA!" Oskar practically tackled me (to the extent a six-year-old can tackle a super-strong teenager) hugging me tightly. A far cry from the standoffish boy from earlier in the day. "Didja beat that ugly green guy?"

"Of course I did. I told you I'd be fine. Now, be a dear and get me a Nutra-water from the fridge. I am completely wiped out."

As if suddenly realizes how mushy he was being, Oskar suddenly let go. "I wasn't worried."

"I know," I said, flopping down.

"…but I'll go get you that drink now," he said scurrying off.

"So that's Oskar?" Rhonda asked. "Rhia was raving about him when I stopped at home to change."

"Oh really," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Young love?"

"Who knows. Speaking of… I… have to admit something. This is going to be difficult for me…" She took a deep breath. "You were right. The orange costume _does_ look better on you. I… was wrong. About fashion. Ugh. I feel dirty now."

"Confession is good for the soul, Rhonda," I assured. "And anyway… I think I may need your help in that regard very soon."

"You do? You always seemed very happy with your look."

"Yes, well… I've felt like it's been time for a change for a while now. And I don't just mean going from two braids to one. I mean something major.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm ev – yes. Come September, South Hillwood High is going to see a new Lila Sawyer."

* * *

**A.N.: What does she mean? You'll find out soon enough. She's not going to go bad or anything… I think we've seen **_**more**_** than enough of that. But we'll be seeing a whole new side of her.**

**Jose: Good idea, but not quite how things worked out.**

**PenguinLord: I hope not. Lawyers are expensive! But yeah, I was pretty shameless about it.**

**See you all next time!**


	22. People Watching

Chapter 21

People Watching

_Tina Park_

_-HELGA-_

"Ooh! I think I got one."

"Where?"

"Over there."

"Hmm? That's just a guy walking a dog."

"Take a closer look, brush-head. That's a raccoon."

"…oh, my god, you're right, that is a raccoon. I can't believe I didn't notice it."

" Right, so, 'Person walking unusual pet.' That's my upper-right corner, which means I'm two away from a bingo diagonally. You really need to catch up."

Brainy and I were in the midst of a heated game of Rando Bingo, the new pastime that was taking the world by storm. Basically, you downloaded this app that generated a bingo board full of random weirdos to try to spot in a crowd, and a bunch of people played until one got a Bingo. Honestly, I'm kinda shocked it took this long for someone to monetize the idea of goofing on people at the park.

"Don't count me out yet. Aha! Man with muttonchop whiskers. I'm back in the game." He marked spot D-5 on his card.

"This is turning out to be a really good idea," I said. "Who knew there were so many weird pedestrians on an average day?"

"Well, this is Hillwood. We're the town that makes Portland look vanilla," he joked.

"True, true." I took a bite of my street shawarma. "Ooh, pink mohawk at ten o'clock." I checked my phone. "No, not on my card…"

"It's on mine," Brainy said, checking it. "So, how long until you have to go back to the bookstore?"

"Oh, we have plenty of time," I replied.

"We've already been out here for forty-five minutes. I'm kind of surprised your boss lets you take long lunches like this."

I chuckled. "I haven't seen hide nor hair of my boss since I was hired. I'm pretty sure the store itself is just some kind of money-laundering operation."

"Seriously?"

"Well, yeah, think about it. We never seem to have any customers, yet the store's still in business. How else would you explain it?"

Brainy shrugged. "You do make a good point. Recumbent bicycle, by the way."

"Ooh! I think I have that one." I checked it. "I'm one Juggalo away from a bingo."

"What about the clown handing out balloons?"

"Nope. Ordinary clowns don't count. It must be a Juggalo."

We continued for a while, finishing our lunches while trying to find more human oddities in the crowd, but neither of us scored. The lull became a long, uncomfortable silence. His mouth was full, but I'd b=finished a while before he had and I was unsure of what to say. And I knew exactly the reason… yesterday, I had spoken to Arnold for the first time since the breakup and now I was starting to question everything. What was I really doing with Brainy? Did I really think this was going to go anywhere? Was I just stringing him along with false hope while simply using him as a placeholder until Arnold inevitably returned? And if that was what I was doing, what kind of person did that make me?

"So… are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?"

"What? Who told you about yesterday? Nothing happened yesterday! Whoever told you something happened yesterday is lying!"

Brainy eyed me confusedly. "So… you… didn't fight an alien yesterday?"

"Ohhhh… _that_ thing that happened yesterday…." Wow. Great reaction there, Pataki. Not suspicious at all. "Well, there's nothing to tell, really. I never actually got to fight the alien. We showed up, got caught in a trap, and that was pretty much it. Lila was the one who really did all the fighting. It's… kind of embarrassing actually." I sighed. "I really wanted to get the chance to beat up an alien."

"I'm sure you'll get your chance someday," he assured, smiling. "If there's one alien biker out there, there's probably more."

"I hope so. That should be a right of passage for any superhero."

"Have you gotten a cat out of a tree yet?"

"I've gotten Eugene out of a tree. Twice. Does that count?"

"Close enough, I'd imagine. Sooooo… what were _you_ talking about?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Huh? Oh, nothing, personal stuff."

"Oh, okay," he said, clearly unconvinced, but willing to let it go. Great, I was lying to both of the boys in my life now. What a wonderful girlfriend I am.

"…y'know, I really should get back to the store," I said, suddenly really uncomfortable.

"Oh, okay, cool, I'll walk back with you. We can keep playing."

"Thanks, but you really don't-" Oh, what am I doing? I'm driving away the second-nicest guy in the world because I'm feeling guilty for talking to the nicest guy in the world behind his back? No… this is wrong. I should at least be honest with the boy tat I'm actually going to be seeing all the time. "You know what, yeah, walk with me. I think I need to talk about something."

"Okay, about what?"

I took a deep breath. "I… talked to Arnold yesterday."

"Ohhhh," he replied. "So… how'd that go?"

"Surprisingly less awkward than I thought it would be. It was kinda like he'd never really left."

"So… he's cool with us?"

"Well, I don't know, I didn't actually, y'know… tell him, exactly…"

"Mmmm." I could discern no judgement, positive or negative, from his response. The old Brainy. Inscrutable, ambiguous.

"I know, I know… we're supposed to be officially broken up, we're supposed to be able to date other people, but for some reason I just couldn't tell him. I tried to tell myself it was to spare his feelings, but I'm not sure if that's the real reason, or if it's me being ashamed that I'm *finger quotes* 'cheating' on him."

"Mmmm."

"I know, I _should_ be honest about this, he deserves that much, but to tell the truth, I don't know exactly what 'this' is yet. Are we a couple? Dating? Proto-dating? Just friends? I'm not sure yet."

"Mmmmm."

'Well, can't argue with that, can I," I joked. "Seriously, though, Brainy… what do _you_ think this is? What do _you_ want out of this?"

He rubbed his chin, considering. "Well… I'd be lying if I said I didn't want this to go any further."

I smirked. "Really. The guy who used to stalk me wants to take this to the next level. You don't say." In a more serious tone, I added, "You've been pretty casual about that, though. You haven't made a move to so much as hold my hand, let alone kiss me."

"Yeah, well, you have to admit that there's this huge, oblong-headed shadow looming over this whole relationship. I know you're not over him…"

"…that's kind of an understatement. I doubt I'll ever truly be _over_ over him…"

"…so, y'know… I want to take this at a pace that works for you. If it was up to me, we'd at least be at the hand-holding stage by now…"

"…we can try it if you'd like," I suggested, holding out my hand.

"If you're okay with it," he replied.

"If I wasn't. I wouldn't be making the offer."

He took hold, and… well, it wasn't that electrical jolt I felt with Arnold. I wasn't sure anything would ever match that. But it was warm and comforting and… well, I guess given his past, I don't know, I was expecting his palms to be a lot sweatier? Thank goodness that wasn't an issue. But…yeah. It was definitely a feeling I could get used to.

"Well, you haven't punched me yet, so I'll take that as a positive sign," he joked.

"Who knows," I added. "If you play your cards right, I might not punch you for the whole rest of the day."

Yeah, he wasn't Arnold. He's never be Arnold. But for now… he was Brainy. And that was enough.

* * *

_South Hillwood Mall_

The girl, dark-haired, tall, slim, and well-dressed, arrived at just after noon at the North Hillwood Mall. Today was not her shift (she worked at a swimwear store on the second floor), but she had other business here. Then it was going to be off to Dino Land to surprise her girlfriend with an impromptu lunch date..

Across the street, a man watched her enter the shopping enclosure from an old, beat-up Chevy, through a pair of binoculars. Surreptitiously, he snapped a few pictures of the young woman. The average passerby, if they saw this, would not be blamed if they were to assume some unsavory intention on behalf of the voyeur, given that his target was decidedly underage. The man in question was not too unaware of this perception, which was why he was so surreptitious.

Once his target had entered the building and thus left his sight, the man dialed his employer.

"I think I found her, Mr. Wendell," he said.

**[A.N. No, not the homeless guy from the Arrested Development song.]**

"_Are you sure it's her?_" the voice on the other end asked.

"Positive," the man replied. "I'm sending you the photos right now."

The man sent the three photos he took of the young woman over his private VPN line (the subscription to which had been courtesy of this mysterious benefactor).

"_Hmm… yes, this must be her. She's nearly identical to her mother," _The man detected a bit of regret in his client's voice, but that was none of his business, as long as his checks cleared. And they did.

"Are we done?" he asked.

"_Continue observing her, but be discreet about it. She can't be more than sixteen or seventeen, and if you get caught, well, you know that I can't be responsible._"

"Right," he said.

What his employer wanted with some rich teenage girl, he had no idea. Frankly, he doubted he even wanted to know. This was just a job, and one that paid very well.

* * *

_GameDump_

_-RHONDA-_

The clerk, whose hair was a pale green today, finished tapping in the order on her computer. "And… there we go. Your preorder for the GS5 Deluxe is confirmed."

"Thanks, Laura. Nadine's been going on about this system since they announced it. She's going to be so surprised I got her one."

"You're a good girlfriend, Rhonda," Laura assured. "And I'm not just saying that because I get a commission on every preorder."

"Hey, what can I say. I like making her happy."

'Well, thanks for doing it in person. The internet is killing this place."

"Don't I know it. Bikini Atoll's probably hanging by a thread too. Well, thanks anyway, I'll see you when I see you."

Well, objective number one had been accomplished. Now I just had to stop at the food court to pick up lunch from Nadine's favorite place. Then it was off to Dino Land.

* * *

After paying the ticketseller (and slipping him an extra fiver so he would look the other way while I slipped outside food into the park, I made a beeline for the main fountain plaza, where a crowd was gathered around a group of capering mascots. One, a pterodactyl dressed in a cheerleading outfit, was doing a rah-rah routine for the guests while she mugged for their photos. _I taught her that. _The costume was probably hot and uncomfortable as all hell, but I had to admit she looked utterly adorable in it.

Eventually, a bell dinged to signal posing time was over. The crowd dispersed, and I took the opportunity to make my way over.

"Oh, Teri Dactyl," I pleaded in a flirty voice. "Surely you have time for one more photo…"

"Teri" shrugged theatrically while she posed as I took a selfie of me giving her a peck on the beak.

"Yeesh, the weirdos are out today," muttered "Sherrif Stego" under his breath.

"Shhh," whispered "Teri." "This is my girlfriend, Diego. I mentioned her, remember?"

"…wait, _this_ is Rhonda? Dang, girl, you got better game than me."

"You guys are killing the illusion," I complained.

"Says the girl flirting with the dinosaur," Nadine reminded. "C'mon, let's go to the employee rest area so I can get this stupid head off."

"Ohhhh, that's better," Nadine sighed in relief, setting down "Teri's" head next to herself on the bench. "I'm really lucky I don't have claustrophobia. They hired a new Cap'n Icthy the other day and he started freaking out as soon as he god the head on."

"You do totally rock the whole lizard cheerleader look, though," I said, giving her a squeeze.

"Stop it," she said mock-annoyed, swatting me with her pom-pom. "You're gonna make people think you have a reptile fetish. What brings you here, anyway? I thought you work Mondays."

"I traded shifts with Becky. Thought I'd surprise you with-"

"Wait, let me guess," she interrupted, sniffing the air. "The chipotle bowl from El Patio? You foul temptress!"

"Of course. It's the only place that uses dairy-free cheese."

"You do spoil me," she said, digging in.

'That's not all," I said. "I stopped by GameDump and preordered you a little something…"

"Oh… it wasn't _Phantoms of Yokohoma_, was it, because I already ordered that."

"No… what have you been raving about since they announced it two weeks ago?"

"Y-you didn't…"

"I did! I preordered you the deluxe model of the GS5!"

"You… you really didn't have to…"

"Sure I did! You're worth it."

"No, seriously, the GS5 is five hundred bucks!"

"Four-ninety-nine-ninety-five. And I didn't have to put it all down at once."

Nadine slumped. "I really wish you didn't do that."

"Why not?" I asked. "Look… some girls like flowers, some girls like jewelry, some girls like chocolate…"

"I like chocolate."

"The girl I love likes bugs and video games, and bugs are pretty much free, so…"

"Rhonda…" She squeezed my had as best she could with her costume's padded oversized glove on. "You don't have to buy me expensive stuff to prove you love me."

"Why not? I love it when people buy me expensive stuff."

"Well, I don't! It makes me feel… I don't know… unequal. Like… and look, I don't hold this against you, I never have, but… you can afford to do this sort of thing. I can't. I can never reciprocate any of this."

"I never expected you to! I'm just trying to express my love the best w- oh. Oh."

"What?"

"Oh, wow, I think I'm having an epiphany here. I… I express love through material gifts because my parents spoiled me rotten and I never realized how unhealthy it is…" I shook my head. Self-awareness hurts.

"Oh, come on, you don't always do that…"

"No. I do. I do it all the time. I never really even gave a thought to how it made you feel because I just assumed everyone felt like I did. Oh… oh god, I used to _tip_ people when they did me favors! I'm just the _worst_!"

"Oh, come on. If you were really the worst would I still be with you after this long? You just didn't know. To be honest, I really should've said something, but I was scared you'd react badly."

I took a dep breath. It was true. She knew all my faults and she was still with me. "Okay. I'll call Laura and ask her to cancel the preorder."

"well…." Nadine's eyes shifted back and forth. "I mean, if you already put down the money… Oh, who am I kidding, it's the GS5 Deluxe and it'd be ages before I saved enough to get one!" She sighed. "How about… no expensive gifts _after_ this one." She slumped. "I'm a hypocrite, aren't I."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting nice things, Butterfly. I just wish I could think some grand gesture I could make to show how much I love you that didn't involve spending a lot of-"

And, suddenly it came to me.

"Take off your costume."

Nadine blushed. "Rhonda, I thought we agreed that we were going to wait 'til we were 18 to-"

"No, not that! I'm taking the rest of your shift."

"You- you what?"

"You heard me. I am going to take your place in that gross, sweaty costume so you can have a well-deserved break."

Nadine's eyes widened. "Y-you would do that? It violates everything you believe!"

"For you, I would do anything, even… wear something second-hand."

"You don't have to do this to prove anything to me, you know."

"I know," I said. "I want to."

And for the next four hours, I would dance around in a confining, smelly foam outfit on a hot day and get kicked by small children.

And it felt good.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, there we go, a bit more development for the story's two most prominent couples. And just what is the deal with the guy spying on Rhonda? Well, that ties into a bit of backstory I've had in mind for her mother. We'll be learning more about that in upcoming chapters.**

**Penguin Lord: We'll be seeing the new Lila soon enough.**

**Jose: Funny enough, first time I saw Lobo waaaay back in Keith Giffen's Justice League run, my first thought was "wow, this guy looks exactly like Beetlejuice."**

**Veganmama: Yep, Lila's new look will be coming soon!**

**See ya next time!**


	23. Dad Stuff

Chapter 22

_Dad Stuff_

Brooke Wellington, ex-supermodel and current socialite, was currently in the midst of planning this Hillwood's annual Fall Charity Gala, as she usually did at this time of year. Most did not know just how much work went into such things… a venue had to be secured, speakers and entertainment needed to be booked, the celebrity guest list vetted, caterers and decorators hired, publicity arranged… it was all quite the undertaking, and as one of Hillwood's most prominent citizens she was expected to take lead. Such was the busy life of a high society lady.

So when her person phone rang, she thought nothing of it; after all, dozens called her every day, so why would she expect anything unusual?

Those pretenses were shattered when she heard the voice on the other end.

"_Barbara._"

It was a name she had not heard in twenty years, spoken by a voice she had hoped to never hear again. By all rights, she should have immediately hung up the phone, but that wouldn't stop _him_. Not if he anted something. And it was an absolute certainty that he wanted something. Why else would he have tracked her down after all this time?

But that didn't mean she was just going to roll over. No… she would find out just what it was he wanted. And then she would make for damn certain that he would ever, ever have it.

"I'm sorry," she said calmly, giving nothing away in her tone. "You must have the wrong number. There's nobody here by that name."

"_Don't play coy with me, Barbara. I know you changed your name. I suppose the name I gave you wasn't good enough_."

"What do you want?"

"_I'm your father. I want what every father wants… I want to see my family."_

Inwardly, Brooke seethed. The nerve of that man… to call after these years, as if nothing had ever happened. As if he deserved to speak to her, after what he had done. After what he had taken. "I don't want you anywhere near _my_ family. If you dare…"

"_You can't keep a grandfather away from his grandchildren…"_

"Watch me." Brooke ended the call and immediately blocked the number. It wouldn't stop him, oh, she had no doubt of that. But it would give her a little while to think about where she would go from here. And besides… she would not give that man the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

She'd already managed to compose herself by the time Buckley had returned from his golf course appointment with the State Senator. Being a blubbering mess simply Would Not Do, after all.

"Buckley, dear, I would like you to look into extra security for our family, if you don't mind," she proposed.

"Brooke, darling, what brought this on?" he replied, confused. Usually, it was he who tended to be concerned about such things.

"Oh, no reason, really, it's just that you can't be too careful when it comes to- oh, I'm not fooling you at all, am I." She let out a deep sigh. "It's Clayton Wendell."

"Your father?" asked Buckley, raising an eyebrow.

"Clayton Wendell," she repeated. "That man lost the right to call himself my father years ago," Decades, actually, but that would be admitting her age, and a lady simply did not do that.

"What could he possibly want after all these years?" mused Buckley.

"He claims he wants to see his grandchildren. I don't know if he's telling the truth and, frankly, I don't care. All I know is I don't want him within a hundred miles of my girls. _Especially_ not Rhonda."

"Turtledove, I share your concern, but you do know Rhonda of all people is quite capable of taking care of herself. Why, just last week she literally tore a burning truck open to save the driver."

"Of course she's strong… physically. Emotionally, she's just as fragile as anyone else, and that's how Wendel works. What he did to my brother is proof of that."

"…all right, I'll look into it. But… I think maybe you should speak to Rhonda herself about this. If she's in danger, it's best she knew what to look out for."

"….You're right as usual, dear.' She sighed. "I'm sorry you have to deal with this. You married Brooke Wellington, not Barbara Wendell."

"You're right. I married Brooke Wellington, a beautiful, smart, capable woman and regardless of who she was in the past, I married her for better or for worse, and if Barbara is a part of that, then I suppose I married her too. I just hope they don't get me for bigamy." He chuckled.

"I never thought I'd have this conversation," Brooke continued. "But… you're right. Rhonda needs to know where she came from, and why I am who I am today. And why she must never be ashamed of who she is."

* * *

Appliance King Warehouse

_-HELGA-_

It was a familiar sight from her childhood; Big Bob in all his glory, prancing around in his faux-ermine-lined cape and this big, ridiculous crown, as a line of chorus girls sang his praises behind him. Sure the merchandise had changed, and sure Bob had shed a few pounds (by demand of his cardiologist) and more than a few hairs (by the even more inescapable demand of time), but here, he was once again king over all he surveyed, and his royal decree slashed prices like an executioner slicing the head off a tax cheat.

The chorus girls were winding down their intro now, and it was time for Biig Bob to go into his spiel. "That's right, I'm Big Bob Pataki, the Appliance King! And I declare an end to high prices! Here at Appliance King, we will not be undersold, we cannot be undersold. Our prices can't be beat. Take this Sangsum high-efficiency washing machine, $809 at the big-name stores. At Appliance King, $774.95! This Maelstrom side-by-side refrigerator/freezer, $1250 at our competitors. At Appliance King, it's yours for $1195! This Kitchensmart three-rack dishwasher, $950 elsewhere. At Appliance King, you can have it for just three low payments of $299! Remember, folks, don't be fooled by fast-talking tricksters… if you want big deals on brand-name appliances, there's only one man to go to… the King! And remember, free beeper with every purchase! And, cut! Alright, we'll tack on the usual disclaimers at the end, slap on some o'them fancy computerfied graphicals, and that's another great Big Bob's Appliances commercial in the can!"

"Still using the kickline, huh, pop?" I said, drawing his attention. I knew better than to interrupt him while engaged in the oh-so-important act of self-promotion, but now that the commercial was done filming, I was free to get his attention.

"Oh, hey, O-Helga." Good catch. He still slipped up from time to time, but not nearly as often as he did in the old days. "Of course I'm still usin' the kickline. Can't have a commercial without a kickline. 'Sides, I gotta pull out all the stops if I wanna compete with the Appliance Wizard on Route 202. Hey, did I mention that I'm gonna be opening Appliance King's first official showroom?"

Only about a hundred times. "Why, no, this is the first time I'm hearing of it."

"Right across the street from the Appliance Wizard! Let's see how that pointy-hat-wearing weenie likes that, huh? I can see the commercial now; I take of my crown and slap on an army helmet and say 'King Bob's declaring war on the Appliance Wizard and his high prices, and no magic spell can save him now!' Heh heh heh, it's gonna be brilliant. Serves 'im right for prancing around in that ridiculous outfit."

I bit back my sarcastic response (it would have been waaaaay too easy; besides, the Appliance Wizard _was_ a gigantic dork), and said instead "So, business is really booming, huh."

"I'll say. That's the thing; the high-tech stuff goes obsolete before you even blink. Yesterday's hot phone is tomorrow's paperweight. But people are always gonna need washing machines, refrigerator, stoves, all that stuff, and other than a few fancy new computer chips they're still basically the same as they were thirty years ago. Take this fridge here; it may have woo-foo and artifactual intelligence an' all that, but its main purpose is still to keep your beer cold, your veggies fresh, and your steaks frozen. Sure, it knows when you run outta milk somehow… I'm not sure I trust that… but basically, it works the same as my old Anama from back when your mother an' I first got married."

"Mmm-hmm," I nodded. If I said nothing, he'd go on and on for an hour. "Got it, old stuff good, new stuff weird and confusing. Anyway, we were supposed to have lunch together?"

"Ohhh, yeah, right, that was today, wasn't it? Actually, this is perfect, there was someone I wanted you to meet."

My eyebrow went up of its own accord. He wanted me to meet someone? Who? He wasn't trying to fix me up with one of his business partners' kids, was he? Wait, have I even told him I'd broken up with Arnold yet? I'm not sure I have. Besides… it wasn't really like him to show a ton of interest in my romantic life. Olga's, sure, mine, not so much. Oh, occasionally he'd ask "You still with that weird-headed Alvin kid?" but he'd drop the subject immediately after I answered. So… no, that probably wasn't it. Which just raised the question of exactly what it was…

* * *

_Chubby's 'Cue, down the road from the warehouse_

I scanned the menu. "Chubby's Ribonanza, please," I ordered.

The waitress looked me over. "Really, kid? You think you can finish that?"

"Oh, I can finish it," I insisted. "Just make it happen.

The waitress shrugged. "Your bellyache, kid," she remarked. "What about you?"

"I'll have the chicken-fried steak," he said.

"_Dad_…" I warned.

"_And_ a salad," he added pointedly. "Criminy, Helga, one chicken-fried steak ain't gonna put Big Bob Pataki in the morgue. I been behaving myself. I eat that kwinn-owa crap an' go joggin' an' stuff like that. Besides, what you ordered is way worse."

"Yeah," I whispered once the waitress was out of earshot, "but I _also_ have two hearts and three stomachs and a jacked-up alien metabolism." Which, granted, I mainly used as an excuse; it wasn't like the other girls ate like I did. Still, my point was made. "So, who's this mystery person you want me to meet? And does it have anything to do with that dead animal you're wearing on your head?"

"Hey hey hey hey HEY! This here is a high-quality hair-replacement appliance! I'll have you know I got it from the same place that makes Shatner's!"

"_William_ Shatner?"

"No, the other guy, Walter Shat- oh, mother may-I, I got ripped off, didn't I. Shoulda known the price was too good to be true. Oh, it's late, here she comes!"

"She" was a woman in her early thirties. Hair color out of a bottle, tan out of another bottle, boobs and nose courtesy of plastic surgery, you know the type. The kind of woman you knew was named "Karen" or something like that.

"Bobby!" she gushed, a hint of nasally Lawn Guyland in her voice, "You would not believe the day I've been having, First, that bitch at the nail salon gives me dusty rose instead of pale rose, and has the nerev to ask me for a tip, then at Moonpenny's they made me wait in line, do they know who I am?"

_I instantly dislike you_, I thought but did not say.

"This city, huh," Bob said non-commitally. 'Whattaya gonna do. Karen," Ha! Called it! "this is my younger daughter, Helga. Helga, this is Karen Falucci,"

The name was vaguely familiar, but nothing I could nail down. "Nice t'meetcha," I replied neutrally. Not much more needed to be said, really. It was clear what was going on here. "So, did you know kids were part of the deal when you staked your claim? Well, don't worry, one's all grown and one's pretty close to it, so don't worry too much."

"Ah-hahaha, you never mentioned your kid was such a comedian," Karen fake-laughed.

"Yeah, that's me, just call me Groucho Pataki," I remarked. "So, Karen, what's your deal?"

Karen raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" she asked. "Do you really not know who I am?"

"Heh, you know kids. They don't watch the news. Helga, Karen's the weather lady at KCRG News."

"Ohhh, _that_ Karen Falucci," I conceded. I must have heard the name in some random news promo while watching something I was actually interested in.

"So, uh… Helga… what a _lovely_ name," Karen continued, clearly not particularly interested in continuing the conversation but obligated by social conventions to do so, "why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

"Oh, not much to tell, really. I'm a professional contract killer for the mob, but that's just something I'm doing to raise money. My real dream is to start my own cult to release the Elder God Yog Sothoth and bring about the end times."

"Heh heh heh, never a serious moment with this one," Bob interrupted, whispering "Can I talk to you in private for a minute?"

* * *

"Look, Helga, would it kill ya to be polite for a minute? I want Karen to get a good impression of you, an' so far you ain't really helpin' with that."

"*sigh* I dunno, there's just… something about her that's really rubbing me the wrong way."

"Olga liked her."

"_Olga_ is a lot better at faking politeness than I am. Look… I'll reign it in, but let me say right off the bat that she is gonna have to be really, really charming to win me over and right now, I don't see that happening."

"I'm not saying you have to start calling her mom or anything, but at least give her a chance, okay?"

"Okay, I- wait, 'mom'? You didn't already marry this chick, did you?"

"Well, n-no… but I'm takin' her down ta Vegas next weekend and you know how it is, anything can happen down there."

"I'd really rather not have to think about that. Fine, I'll be *finger quotes* 'polite', but just slow it down, okay? She just gives me a bad vibe is all."

"Hey, I know you're just lookin' out for me, but don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. I already got my lawyer on speed-dial in case I need a pre-nup."

"See, this is what I'm saying. How long have you been seeing this woman, a week? Two? Don't rush into things."

"Look, you gotta understand, it's not easy meetin' new people at my age. I been off the dating scene for a long time. But… I dunno, I got a good feeling about this."

"*sigh* Fine. I'll… give her a chance. For you."

"Atta girl. Hey, how's it goin' with that Albert guy with the weird head?"

"Arnold. And we broke up a month ago when he moved to San Lorenzo. Actually, I just started dating this new guy, Brian…"

"Yeah that's great, honey," He checked his rug in the mirror. "Dunno what you're talkin' about, this looks fine t'me… C'mon, let's go back to the table."

* * *

I managed to behave myself for the rest of lunch. No sarcasm, and believe me, that's not an easy thing to do for me. Not that I got a ton of opportunity, as Karen pretty much dominated the conversation with a detailed litany of every microaggression she'd encountered over the last week, which as it turned out was many, many microaggressions. I wondered what exactly Bob saw in- well, okay, it was actually pretty obvious what he saw in her… she was a busty blonde who paid attention to a paunchy middle-aged man. But surely he was more discerning than that… I mean, going from Mom to this airhead? And the worst part was he'd already implied he was thinking of marriage. This bimbo could wind up my new stepmother! Sure, Miriam had gone out with a loser or two since the divorce, but it had never really gone beyond that. But Bob was already planning to take Karen on a rad trip. I was not okay with this. Not okay at all. But… barring the possibility that I stumble onto proof that she was a spy sent by the Appliance Wizard to take down Big Bob's empire from the inside, I really didn't have much in the way of leverage here.

No, I held my tongue, and grinned and bore the entitlement and whining and occasional bit of diet racism until it was time to leave. Once I was free, I would never have to think about her for the rest of the day.

* * *

"And then after she sends her fish back a _third_ time, she starts demanding to see the chef, and when he finally comes out, she starts hinting that she's going to call INS… which she called _IMF_, by the way… never mind it turns out the guy's a third-generation American citizen, but that's besides the point…"

"My," Phoebe replied, scanning one of the bookshelves, "this woman sounds like quite the piece of work."

"You got that right. It's like, if a bad quality exists, she has it. It's like some mad scientist set out to create literally the worst human being possible. And yes, I'm purposely being hyperbolic, of course she isn't up there with history's greatest monsters, but you get the idea."

"Have you spoken of your concerns to your father?"

"Of course I did, but he gave me the whole lonely middle-aged schlub getting back into dating after a long lull and damn it, what do you say to that? Maybe… maybe he'll manage to bring out some good in her?" I snickered. "Man, is _this_ what it's come to? I'm looking for _Bob_ to be the good influence? Wow, Arnold's done a number on me, huh."

"I wasn't going to say it, but… at this point in the old days, you'd be in the midst of concocting some sort of elaborate plan to drive them apart."

"Heh, yeah, I'd be all like 'I"ve got it! I'll get an internship at the TV station, work my way up to becoming Karen's personal assistant, then I'll secretly record everything she says until I catch her cheating on him or trashing him behind his back! Hah hah hah, what a great plan.' …actually, now that I think of it, my grades are good enough that I probably could get Principal Stevenson to recommend me for an internship…"

"Helga!"

"Just kidding, Pheebs. By now I've figured out that my elaborate plans tend to be spectacular failures. I'm just gonna cross my fingers and hope this fizzles out."

"That's certainly a healthy attitude to take."

"…and if that doesn't work, _then_ I'll try an elaborate plan."

"*sigh* of course."

* * *

**A.N.: Well, here's everyone's "favorite" character, Big Bob, making his first appearance in the series. Clearly Helga's relationship with him has improved, and he's softened a it, but that fundamental **_**Bob**_**ness is still there and he's surprisingly fun to write.**

**As for our other plotline, I've been wanting to get into this backstory I have for Brooke for a while now, and it's not pretty. Let's just say there are reasons she wanted to leave her past and her old name behind.**

**Jose: Well, hopefully this chapter clears it up a bit, and I'll be going into further detail next chapter, but for now, let's just say that, as Gerald might say, Clayton Wendell is **_**not**_** a good man. Not a good man at all.**

**See you next time!**


	24. Who Was Barbara Wendell?

**[A.N.: This chapter may contain disturbing material for some readers.]**

Chapter 23

Who Was Barbara Wendell?

_Lloyd mansion_

_-RHONDA-_

"…so… what you're saying… is my grandfather is _not_ dead."

When my mom called be over to talk to me, I had assumed it was to convince me to have Joule put in an appearance at her charity event. After all, that was her current project, and superheroes were known for doing charity work. So, imagine my surprise when it turned out it wasn't about that, but about her mysterious past.

Mom could go on for hours about her modelling days, or about her early courtship with my dad, but she never touched on her life before that. I'd asked her on occasion, but she would always just avoid the line of questioning with "Oh, it wasn't very interesting, really," and any questions about my grandparents from her side of the family were dismissed with "They passed away a long time before you were born, dear." I never really pressed the issue but it always seemed like she was hiding something. It seemed I was finally going to learn what.

"I know that's what I've always told you, but… it's true. He's not dead, and he wants to see you."

"So… I take it that this is not a good thing."

"It's a very long story. See… Brooke Wellington wasn't my original name. I was born Barbara Wendell, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. My father, Clayton Wendell, was the founder of Wendell Frozen Foods, the #1 producer of frozen foods in the entire Northeast. As you can imagine, he was a very wealthy, powerful man. Someone who knew what he wanted, and was used to getting it."

"Now, we lost our mother when I was very young-"

"…hold on, 'we?'"

"Yes, my older brother Rhys and I."

"So, let me get this straight, I not only have a grandfather I've never known, but an uncle?"

"Yes, I'm getting to all that, dear. Anyway, the two of us grew up alone in that big house, with him. I suppose losing her made him the cold, distant man we came to know. It was mostly the servants who raised us. In any case, it just made the two of us closer. Your uncle Rhys was quite the charmer… handsome, smart, dashing… of course, all the girls were crazy about him. But… it wasn't so much the _girls_ he was into, if you know what I mean. As I discovered one day when I caught him with one of his friends from the football team."

"So… what happened then?" I asked.

"Well… you must understand... we were raised to be very traditional. I didn't understand at the time that it was a perfectly normal thing for some people. So, at the time, I found it very shocking. But he begged me not to tell Father, and out of respect for him, I didn't. It was our little secret that we shared, and in time, I grew to understand." She drifted off, wistful. "He was… different, but he was still the same brother I loved."

"This is kind of explaining a lot," I remarked. "Like why you gave me that really big, embarrassing hug when I came out…."

"Yes, I may have overdid it," she agreed. "I just wanted to make it very clear to you that I accepted you."

"Well, you certainly did that…" It was nice to know her mother's love was unconditional, but really, there were certain standards that needed to be adhered to. "So… what happened? I'm getting the sense that this doesn't end happily."

"I'm afraid your sense is right on the money, dear. You see, Rhys was discreet about his relationship, but it just takes one slip-up to be exposed. And when the coach caught him, you can be sure that it was reported directly to Father… and he did not take it well. Father immediately pulled Rhys out of school and sent him off to a 'special camp' to be 'fixed.'" She grimaced ruefully at the memory. "It wasn't until much later that I found out exactly what goes on at those camps. It's horrifying. The fact that there are still states where that sort of thing is legal is sickening."

"When he finally came home, it was as if a part of him had been murdered and what we got back was some kind of hollowed-out corpse walking around with his face. I lied to myself at the time it was fine, that he had been 'fixed', after all, right? He would be back to normal soon enough." A deep, rueful sigh. "And everything was fine. Right up until he hanged himself in his room. I was five at the time."

"Oh," was all I could say. How do you react to that? "What happened next?"

"Well, you would think this would be a wake-up call, that maybe _he_ would have realized his mistake and acknowledged it, attempted to atone for it. But then, you don't know Clayton Wendell. Rhys's body was quietly disposed of, and seemingly overnight, he stripped the house clean of any sign that Rhys had ever existed. When I asked what had happened to my brother, instead of telling me, he denied that I ever had a brother, that I should stop believing in imaginary friends, that it was unhealthy. Later on, I learned that there was a word for what he was doing. It was called 'gaslighting.'"

"Pardon the unladylike language, but Grandpa sounds like a colossal piece of shit."

"I'll allow it, sweetie. He _was _a piece of shit. Anyway, I pretended to go along with his little fiction, but I knew, deep down, that he was lying to me. I knew that I would never look at him the same way again. And the moment I was old enough, I ran away to Paris, changed my name, and threw myself into the world of modelling, and never looked back. Years later, I met your father while he was vacationing, and the rest, as they say, _c'est l'histoire_." She got up. "I really should have poured myself some wine before we started having this conversation because quite frankly, I'm missing it now."

"Don't deprive yourself on my account. In fact, I'll join you."

"*chuckle* Nice try, dear. You _can_ join me… with a more appropriate beverage."

"We don't know if alcohol works on me yet," I said innocently.

"And we will continue to bask in our ignorance until you're at _least_ 18," she said, pouring herself a rosé and me sparkling apple juice. Way to make me feel like I'm six instead of sixteen. At least it was in a nice glass.

"Anyway," she said after taking a sip, "I never heard from him after that, either personally or from the news. I supposed he decided that_ I_ didn't exist, either. Which was fine with me; I had absolutely no desire to see him ever again. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have been dead… so, that was the fiction I maintained. I guess lying to ourselves runs in the family."

"Mom," I said, "no one can blame you for wanting to distance yourself from your past. It doesn't make you like him. _You_ didn't use your lies to actively hurt people."

She took another sip, smiling. "You really are growing up to be quite the mature woman. Your mother must be very proud."

"Does that mean…"

"No wine," she restated. "Maybe a little on your birthday." She downed the rest of the glass. "You know, you would have been Rhys if you were a boy. Your sister, too. At least I got the 'RH' in there, so that's something."

"One thing I don't understand… if he stayed pretty much out of your life for twenty-" She shot a glance at me that said _don't go there, _"for however many or _few_ years it's been… why would he suddenly want to get in contact with us now?"

"I couldn't begin to fathom what goes on in that man's mind. If I didn't know better, I'd say maybe his conscience has been nagging him all these years. But I _do_ know better."

I took a sip of my own drink. "There is one way we could find out. Next time he wants to get in touch with us, we let hm."

"Out of the question," Mom declared. "There is no way he's getting anywhere near you kids. Especially you, given what he did with your uncle."

"Mom, if you think I'm gonna just let myself get brainwashed like that…"

"You don't know what that man's like!"

"Actually, I have a pretty good idea thanks to you. Enough that I'd be on my guard."

"Nope. Not happening. No way."

"Mom, think about it. Like you said, he's a very wealthy, powerful man. If he wants something, he's going to find a way to make it happen. Pretending he doesn't exist isn't going to make him go away, not now. You need to take control of the situation, set your own terms. Don't play by _his_ rules."

"I'll think about it," Mom finally said after a long pause, during with she poured herself a rare second glass of wine (I didn't doubt this was a two-glass situation). I questioned whether she actually did intend to think about it, or whether she'd said she would so that I would drop the matter for now. Well, for now, I would, but this wasn't over. Sooner or later, Clayton Wendell would make another move, and if Mom proved to be intractable, I had no doubt he would instead try to make contact directly with me. And while I confess a bit of curiosity about what my grandfather was like in person, I knew he would probably make some attempt use me to get to Mom. But if serving as bait was what I had to do to get to know his intentions, then so be it.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"…forty minutes. I spent forty minutes with that woman, but I swear to god it felt like a lifetime. Tell me I'm wrong, Olga, tell me I'm wrong!"

Olga smiled in that serene way of hers as she poured the tea. "Oh. Karen? Yes, I agree. Total bitch. Can't stand being around her. Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Sheer torture."

Criminy. Hearing the word "bitch" out of my oh-so-proper sister's mouth was something I will never get used to hearing. "Bob seems to think you like her."

"Well, I don't, but she seems to make Daddy happy, so I'm keeping my opinions to myself."

"Well, what if it gets serious? What if he proposes, she soaks Bob for all he's worth, then leaves him high and dry? I mean… it's not like she can milk that weather girl gig for much longer. The station's eventually going to trade her in for a younger model. And she knows it, I bet. She's just looking for a new gravy train to get a seat on, and Pop's the unsuspecting conductor."

Carrying her tea, Olga gingerly sank her expanding body into one of the overstuffed chairs in the parlor. "Even given her… unpleasant personality, that seems a bit farfetched."

"'Farfetched.' After what we've seen? I wouldn't dismiss anything." I took a sip of my own tea and grimaced. "Ughhh what is this swill? Brynner's pee?" The Siamese briefly looked up from where he was dozing on the rug at the mention of his name, determined it was of no interest, and nodded off again.

"It's a mix of nettle, rosehips, raspberry leaf, peppermint and lemon oil. It's supposed to be very good for pregnancy. If you'd prefer, I could make you some coffee."

"Nah, I'll do it. Don't get up on my account." I made for the kitchenette. "I still can't believe I'm gonna be a freakin' aunt. I mean, yeah, growing up, you seemed like you were always gonna be the type who would settle down and start pushing out babies, but then you started working for Bridgette and I figured you were gonna actually be cool."

"Well, you never knew what's going to happen. Or who you're going to fall in love with." Two years ago, while on a mission for Bridgette, Olga had saved some rich yuppie's life and the next thing you know, she hung up her lilac catsuit and beret for good, went back to teaching, and got married to said rich yuppie. "It was fate that I met Taylor. Being a secret agent was fun for a while, but this is the life really want."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing. It's not gonna happen to me. You'll never catch Helga Pataki waddling around in bunny slippers with a baby in her gut drinking boiled plant piss."

'Never say never, baby sis. One day, could be soon, could be far off, you might just find yourself wanting what you never thought you could."

"Not likely. Could you imagine? Me? A mom?"

"I think you'd make a wonderful mother."

"Of course you do. You think _everything_ I do is wonderful. You're like… like Pop is with _you_."

"*chuckle* Well, you've got me there. Still though… you meet the right, I assume, boy and your priorities could change."

The right boy. Well, the right boy was four thousand miles away from here, and while supposedly I'd see him again in ten months, there was always the chance he'd move on. And while Brainy was here, now, and I was definitely growing fond of him, I still couldn't shake the feeling that I was just using him as a distraction for loneliness. Not that he seemed to mind.

"Yeah, well, don't count it. Honestly, I'm not sure I could even if I wanted to. Different biology and all that. For all I know I lay eggs now."

Olga giggled. "That would certainly be unexpected."

"Yeah, laugh it up, it isn't you they'd be popping out of."

"Well, even if you can't have babies with regular people, there's always adoption. And, I know, I'm ridiculously biased, but I truly do think you would make a wonderful mother."

"Hey, if you want to be delusional, go for it." I replied, but the wheels in my mind were turning, and for the briefest of moments I did picture myself in Olga's slippers and maternity dress, feeling my belly swell, carrying… whose child?

Who else.

It seemed even now, even with someone else, my thoughts were still drifting to Arnold when I let them. No matter how much I tell myself I can move past him, I can be my own person, still he is at the center of my thoughts, and he always would be. And as much as I liked being with Brainy, it wasn't fair to him that I was always going to be keeping a part of myself for someone else. I to think, here I was judging Bob and Karen when I was I my own sham relationship.

No…. this could not go on. Sooner or later, something was going to have to give.

And the sooner, the better it would be for Brainy.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, there it is, Brooke's backstory revealed. I've had this all plotted out since the first story, but never had the space to work it in until now. Let me know if you think it works.**

**Since it ran short, I also figured it was time we got to see what Olga was up to after all this time. And we also get to meet the single most important character in this story… Olga's cat, Brynner. Well, okay, not really the most important, but I like to think he, Abner, and Stinky's bat go out on the town every night and have rollicking adventures.**

**Jose: Yep, but what does he have planned, and why? And trust Helga to bust out the literary references.**

**See you next time!**


	25. Potential Break-Up Chapter

Chapter 24

_Potential Break-up Chapter_

_Hillwood Boardwalk_

-LILA-

Well, this was it. Step one of my glorious transformation. Step two would be accomplished later today, but this first step was important, and had been a long time coming.

"Sid..." I began, "I didn't ask you here just to hang out. This… this isn't easy for me."

"Heh, hey, check it out. That cat's on a skateboard."

"…yes, I suppose that's pretty adorable…" Okay, girl, you can do this. Don't get distracted by skateboarding cats, no matter how ridiculously cute they are. The band-aid must be ripped off, no matter how much you don't want to do it. You've bred it into yourself to be passive and non-confrontational, but that has to change. You need to start being assertive. And it all starts here. "Sid, I think we should-"

"Hey, you know what would make this even better?" Sid fished a small white object out from his pocket. "Now, where did I put my lighter…"

Well, you just made this a whole lot easier. "Sid, I think we should start seeing other people. And… not each other."

"What? Why?"

"It's… a lot of little things, really. Little skinny white things."

"I don't get what you're saying, babe."

"I'm saying… lately, it feels like you're more interested in getting high than you are in me."

"Aw, c'mon, that's not true. You know you're number one in my book…"

"You are literally lighting up a joint as I'm speaking to you!"

"Oh," He looked down. "I guess I am. Well, better not waste it…"

"See, this is what I'm talking about. I'm about to break up with you because of this and you still can't stop yourself."

"Hey, you know I like to get blazed. I don't see why it's such a problem all of a sudden."

"It's not sudden. It's been building up for a while now. You're always blowing me off to go get high with Stinky and Iggy, and I've been putting up with it until now because… well, because I have a problem confronting people. It's only lately I realized that that's not the person I want to be any more, and that I have to start making changes in my life if I want to become the person I do want to be. And one of the changes I have to make is not letting people walk all over me anymore. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"*snicker* The cat just did a kickflip! He thinks he's people!"

"What, really?" Oh, come on, Lila, don't let yourself get distracted no matter how cute that sounds. "*sigh* Anyway… I've been content to leave you alone regarding your… habit, but it's really starting to get in the way of us. You know know what I mean."

"Well, then, I got good news for you. I'm gonna have a lot more time for you. Mr. Camacho caught me lighting up on the job, so he fired me! Isn't that great! Now I can hang with the guys _and_ you!"

I threw up my hands. "Getting fired is not a good thing! See… this is the kind of thing that makes me wonder why I'm even with you in the first place!"

"Aw, c'mon, babe, you're with me because we're good together!"

"Are we, though? I want something that's going to go somewhere. I look at other couples… Harold and Patty, Thad and Sheena, Gerald and Phoebe, Rhonda and Nadine… even Helga and Arnold, because you _know_ there's no way that's really over… those other couples, they feel like they fit together. You and me… don't. You don't notice it because you're content with how things are. Well, I'm not, and I haven't been for a long time now. I… I really feel like I'm with you out of inertia."

"Inner-whatnow?"

"It means we're stuck in a rut. And nobody wanted to change anything, you because you're fine with things staying this way forever and me because I'm scared to make a move. But… think about it… when did we first get together?"

"Oh, that's easy, it was…" He rubbed his head. "Come to thing of it, when was that?"

"Let me refresh your memory. It was right after I went on that morning show back in sixth grade. Now, bear in mind all I'd just been through… I caught a chunk of shrapnel in my gut, went through a very painful and traumatic metamorphosis, had a psychotic break, and got my body hijacked by a demon, all within the space of a few days. Then, the girls convince me to go on a morning show, only to have some muckraking journalist attempt to expose me as a monster. And bear in mind, as well, that at the time I was still stuck in my alien form, and I was very, very self-conscious about it. Now, here you are, the first boy to show interest in me at the time, despite what I'd done and how I looked. Is it any wonder I latched onto that like a hungry calf?"

Sid blinked, realizing just what I was getting at. "I get it," he said. "I… I never knew you felt that way. Man… all this time, I never realized I was taking advantage of you like that. I… I guess if I look at it that way, this all makes sense." He started to wail in that way he does. "I'm *sob* sorry, Lila! You must think I'm terrible!"

I smiled inwardly. Sure, he was kind of a lazy slacker, but deep down, he was a sweet guy. "I don't think that at all. It's not like you did any of this intentionally. And really, at least part of it is my fault for dragging it out this long." I gave him a pat on the shoulder. "And we'll always be friends, of course. It's not that I don't _like_ you, I just don't feel like we're really compatible."

"So… you're not mad at me?"

"Well, I can't say that I wasn't a little upset the last time you stood me up, but… no, I'm not mad at you. I just think we'll work better as friends than as a- Oh my gosh, the cat's grinding on a rail now!"

"He is? Whoa, he is! That's awesome!"

Well, that was it. The deed was done. Now, it was time to move on to step two. My new look.

I just hope I don't go too overboard.

* * *

_A Little Bit of Seoul Korean restaurant_

_-RHONDA-_

"Well… that's the whole story." I exhaled in relief, having finally unloaded my burden.

"Wow," marveled Nadine. "That's… a lot to unpack."

"Tell me about it," I said. "There's this whole side of my family that I never knew existed, and it's _horrible_."

"Yeah, I… I have to level with you, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through."

"I did a bit of research on him, you know. Not only did he try to brainwash my uncle, not only did he drive him to suicide, but it turns out he's also a gigantic racist on top of that, so there's that little nugget of info for me to process too."

"Oh, cool."

"Cool, how is any of that cool?"

"Because you're dating everything he hates." She smirked, giving my hand a squeeze. "I honestly can't think of a better act of defiance."

"Oh… oh my god, is that it? The whole race aspect never even occurred to me, but maybe it did subconsciously… Am I just dating you out of some innate need to rebel against my patrician upbringing?"

"Oh, for… I didn't mean it like that. Jeez, why is everything I say sending you into a shame spiral lately? No, Rhonda, you are not dating me to rebel against the grandfather that you didn't know existed until a couple of days ago."

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just all weirded out about this whole thing. I'm just… I don't know where this is going. I know he wants to get back in touch for whatever reason and I know my mom doesn't want anything to do with that and I know that won't stop him. So that means he's eventually going to come after me."

"So… what are you going to do about that?"

"Well, the plan, to the extent that I have one, is to wait until he makes contact with me, pretend that I don't know anything about him, and see if I can figure out just what his plans are. Of course, until he does get in contact, all I can do is speculate."

"When he does, we'll be ready."

"We? Nadine, this is my problem. I don't want you anywhere near it!"

"If it's your problem, it's my problem. You know the deal, right? This is ride or die. Unless you're thinking of doing something stupid, like, oh, I don't know… breaking up with me in some sort of misguided attempt to protect me…"

"What? No way. I'd never do something like that." Okay. That was a lie. The thought had occurred to me. This whole meeting had been me working up the courage to do just that, but thinking about pulling the trigger and actually doing it were two very different things. I thought maybe if I went through exactly what was going on with the whole situation that maybe I'd be able to build up a case for actually going through with it. And of course, a part of me knew that there was no way someone as awesome as Nadine would take that sitting down.

"Are you trying to lie to me?" she questioned, raising an eyebrow. See what I mean? She knows me too well. "That's exactly the kind of stupidly noble thing you'd try to pull knowing full well that I wouldn't have it. You do not get rid of me that easily, Rhonda Lloyd. I'm stubborn. I cling like a tick."

"You just compared yourself to a bloated blood-sucking parasite, you know." I said, giggling in spite of myself.

"Not their fault they need blood to live. It's how evolution made them."

"I'll agree to spare myself a lecture on the tick's life cycle." I said.

"Hey, I'm just happy you retained some knowledge about arachnids. Makes me feel like I'm not talking to the wall." She swished her _bool jajang_ around idly with her chopsticks. "Anyway, seeing as you can't get rid of me, and you shouldn't even try, what's the plan?"

I slurped down a bit of _naeng myun_, more for the chance to think of what to say than to eat. "Hmm… maybe I'll go bug Helga, see if I can get my hands on some of that spy equipment of hers. Wire myself up. If I can catch him admitting to something illegal, maybe I can bring the feds down on him. It's a long shot…"

"Have you thought of coordinating with Bridget? If he's really as bad as you think, it might be a good call to get her resources on this."

"Maybe. Of course, none of this means anything until he contacts u-" I was cut off by my phone ringing. We held our breath as I checked. Sure enough it was an unfamiliar number. Could it be him? Hell of a coincidence if it was…

"Hello?" I asked.

"_I did it, Rhonda! I finally did it_!"

"_Lila_?" I asked. Of all the people I was expecting to call, she was the last… especially as, as far as I know, she didn't have a cell phone."

"_Oh, sorry… yes, it's me. After that whole Oso fight, Suzie insisted on getting me a cell phone. She said the thought that I could be fighting alien monsters and they wouldn't be able to get in touch with me was too terrifying to consider. It's not a superfancy model, but I was able to get video of a skateboarding cat that I just have to show you-_"

"Focus, Lils… what did you finally do?"

"_Oh, right… I broke up with Sid."_

"Oh, I'm really sorry…" Nadine mouthed _What's going on? _I responded _She dumped Sid, _she looked appropriately surprised.

"_Oh, don't be, it was a lot easier than anticipated_."

"How'd he take it?"

"_Surprisingly well, especially after I made it clear it was more me than him, though, honestly, a lot of it was him_."

"Well, hey. Good for you. Now what?"

"_Now, I start working on my new look. I was thinking of maybe starting by cutting my hair_…"

"What? Don't you dare do that!"

"_Oh, it's no big deal. I'm certain I've been cutting my own hair since as long as I can remember_…"

"You will do nothing of the sort! Establishing a new look for oneself is not something to be undertaken lightly. It's serious business, and must be treated with all the gravity such an endeavor deserves! And, consequently, you and I will be visiting my very own _personal_ salon, where your hair will be attended to with all the loving care it deserves. So long as we don't get _Quirk_…" I added quietly.

'_What? Who's Quirk_?" she asked. "_Really, you don't have to go through all the trouble_…"

"Nonsense! It's what I would do for any friend. And afterward, I'll take you shopping wherever you want. This is what I _live_ for, Lila. Don't do this without me."

"_Well, all right. But I don't want you taking over_."

"Of course not. This is all about you. I'm just taking care of the arrangements. The final word on anything is all yours."

"_All right. It's just that you do sometimes have a tendency to make things about yourself_."

"When have I ever?"

"_Well, there was that time at Katrinka's going away party, and when Melissa was starting to transition and you dragged her to_-"

"Hey, she was _going_ to need fashion advice and- Okay, okay, point made. I promise I'll let you do all the driving. Just let me know when you want me to make the appointment."

"_Thanks, that's all I ask. I'll see you soon_! *beep*"

"So, you got yourself a consulting job, huh?" Nadine asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"Lila wants a makeover. I mean, it's about time, she's been pretty much wearing the same green farm dresses since she got here, but I kinda have a feeling she might want to go overboard. I think she may need someone to keep her from going _too_ outrageous."

"Yeah, well, just don't forget this is about her."

"Tch. She just said the same thing to me. Am I really- no, no, don't answer that, I know I am. *sigh*" Well, at least I had a thing to distract me from the looming spectre of my mother's past. This was just the kind of project I needed to keep me occupied until the other shoe dropped.

We finished up lunch and prepared to leave. I noticed that towards the end, Nadine was repeatedly glancing out the window. "Something interesting out there?" I prodded.

"Not really, it's just… that's gotta be the ugliest car I've ever seen."

"Huh… I've been trying not to look directly at it."

"It's been there the whole time we're here, and I don't think I've seen anyone get into or out of it."

I shrugged. "So what? Lots of cars stay parked for a long time."

"True… but I'm getting a weird feeling I saw that car before. It's like… that memorable kind of ugly."

"Seems like a coincidence to me."

"Yeah, probably… maybe I caught Sid's paranoia."

"*chuckle* I hear the cure to that is squeezing your butt."

"Oh, that's your answer to everything!"

"Well, it's not my fault your butt is so squeezable."

"Rhon, you're terrible!"

"It's why you love me. Admit it."

"I will not!"

"Then live in denial! But know that I am coming for your butt!"

"Awp!" Nadine darted out of the restaurant and down the street.

"The chase is on," I said to no one as I jogged after.

* * *

_Kitka Theater_

_-HELGA-_

"So, what'd you think?" Brainy asked.

"Mmm. Best nap I ever had." I answered, yawning and stretching. Brainy had taken me to some pretentious Azerbaijani art flick, on the grounds that I needed to "broaden my horizons" or some such junk (that and _Gut Grinder 3_ was sold out).

"I kinda figured as much when I didn't have to fight you for the popcorn. You really missed a fascinating look into the human condition."

"Really?"

"No. It was easily the most boring thing I ever saw. I honestly think someone was paying off critics because that… THAT… I can't see what anyone could possibly get out of it."

"That bad, huh."

"There was this part where the director holds on a goat for like, twenty minutes. I got up, went to the bathroom, washed my hands, got a soda refill, and they were _still_ on the goat when I got back. I don't think the director even had any kind of statement he was trying to make, I think he just left the camera on, went and did something else, came back, and said 'Eh… I'll just leave it in.' Or however you say that in Azerbaijani."

"Brainy, what are we doing?"

"I dunno… depends on why you're asking. Are you having surprise memory lapses, or is this the existential kind of 'What are we doing?'"

"*sigh* The second, _doi_. These past couple of weeks have been… nice, and all, but to be perfectly honest… I still see you as a placeholder for when Arnold comes back. I probably always will. And really, that's just not fair to you. You deserve better than a girl who's always looking past you."

He began to chuckle.

"What's so funny?" I asked. "I'm freakin' breaking up with you here and you're laughing like I just told you a really good joke."

"*chuckle* Helga, you think I don't know I'm a placeholder? I came in knowing full well that Arnold is the love of your life and that there's no real future for this."

"And, what, you're okay with that? You're just fine with knowing that, should Arnold just show up one day and say 'Welp, changed my mind, couldn't live without you, let's get back together', I would just take him back without even a second thought? That doesn't rankle you even a little bit?"

"Nope."

"WHY ARE YOU SO NICE?" I threw my hands up in frustration. "Why couldn't this be some parallel universe where, instead of coming to a mutual decision that a break from each other would be healthy, Arnold instead decided to leave me high and dry to pursue some crazy dream of his and the two of us got to slowly form a lasting, mutual relationship over a long period of time, eventually blossoming into a love perhaps less passionate and intense, but in the end stronger? That's the universe you deserve!"

"Helga," he interrupted.

"WHAT?" I asked.

"Don't obsess over the future. Enjoy the now. In the future, you're going to go back to him, I know that. But I'm content with being with you now."

"Was that the moral of the movie?"

"No, the moral of the movie was 'avoid Azerbaijani art-house films like the plague'. This is the moral of right now. Live in the moment."

And all of a sudden, I was kissing him.

…wow," he said after we parted. "If I had known philosophical musings were what got you in the mood, I'd've been doing a lot more pontificating."

"Sorry, sorry," I apologized. "I'm just the queen of mixed messaging today, aren't I."

"So…"

"I… I could do it again." I conceded.

And, well… we did. And it was good. It wasn't the greatest feeling ever… but it was good. For now. He was nice to be with. For now.

Live in the moment.

* * *

**A.N.: If that parallel universe Helga was talking sounded familiar it's because it's the one from American HOT Fender's "Thirty" (and if it doesn't, GO READ IT NOW), which is a terrific story that focuses on how a Helga/Brainy relationship could realistically develop, and I wouldn't be so bold as to say that it would make even the most fanatical Shortaki shipper question themselves. But I would whisper it.**

**Jose: Yes, it's why I've had Brooke become a lot warmer than she is on the show… Rhonda's metamorphosis and later coming out made her realize that she had the opportunity to be the supportive parent her father never was. And yes, Helga still has trouble shaking her low self-esteem issues.**

**Veganmama: No doubt, it took a lot for Brooke to put Barbara Wendell's traumas behind her. As for Helga and Brainy, they've decided they're going to live in the now… for now.**

**SKATEBOARD CAT WILL RETURN**

**Next: Lila's makeover!**


	26. Love at First Strum

Chapter 25

Love at First Strum

_South Hillwood Mall_

_-LILA-_

You never know where you're going to be when you fall in love for the first time. Actual love, not like-like. I've been in like-like a few times, first with Arnold shortly after my arrival in Hlllwood, then with his oh-so charmingly eccentric cousin Arnie, then with Sid, sweet hot-mess Sid. But love, love was something else entirely.

The first time I experienced true love, I was in the South Hillwood Mall. It was the moment that I first saw _her _in the window of Sound Investments, the resident music store. I knew it was hopeless the first time I laid eyes on her curvy body, her long slender neck, her taut strings…

I'm talking about a peach Fender Telecaster electric guitar, silly, what did you think I was talking about?

Anyway, her design said "yes", but her price tag said "no". Still, every time I pass the store, my eyes could help but linger on her beauty. Oh, to hold her in my arms… but alas, she was out of my league. Financially speaking. And asking my parents probably wouldn't work, especially since they just got me my first cel. But looking was always free.

Such was the case today, as Rhonda accompanied me to my appointment at Choice Cuts. I was actually kind of surprised that someone of her social status got her hair cut at a mall salon instead of somewhere more exclusive, but apparently she'd been getting her hair done here since sixth grade and didn't see any reason to stop. For some reason, today I hesitated as we passed by the music store, my eyes once again locking on to the instrument.

"Lila?" Rhonda asked, giving my hand a slight tug.

"Just a second." In all this time, all I'd done was look. I'd never actually gone into the store. But today… today, I was feeling bold. "I just want to go into the music store for a few minutes, all right?"

"But-"

"We've got plenty of time before my appointment. Please?" Puppy-dog eyes, activate!

"*sigh* It's not about you, Rhonda, it's not about you," she muttered to herself. "Sorry… if it's something you really want to do, I'm not going to stand in your way."

"Thanks," I said, flagging down the manager, Jim judging by his name tag. "Excuse me," I asked, "can I please see the Telecaster in the window?"

"You have a good eye," the clerk (his nametag introduced him as Jim) replied, fetching the instrument from the window. "This baby delivers some pretty intense sound."

I took the instrument in my hands, feeling its weight as I slung the strap over my shoulder. My left hand cradled her (Cheryl. Her name was Cheryl.) neck, my fingers dancing over the fret. My right set of fingers got a feeling for the strings.

Jim plugged the guitar into the store's amp. "Go on," he said. "Try it out."

I gave Cheryl an experimental strum. The chord echoed through the music store. The acoustics in there weren't exactly terrific, but to my ears it sounded like a choir of angels had taken up permanent residence in my immediate vicinity.

"I didn't know you played, Lila," Rhonda remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"A little bit," I admitted. "I learned on an old acoustic back on the farm. My mama taught me, back when… well…"

"…oh," Rhonda replied, looking guilty for touching a nerve.

"It's… it's okay." I assured. "It was a long time ago. I'm… well, now, I'm just happy remembering the time I got to have with her. Though, I must admit… this does make me feel like I'm closer to her." I played a few more chords, then launched into the opening riff from "When Doves Cry." Oh, yes. That was the stuff. "Mama was a big Prince fan," I acknowledged.

"A _little_, huh?" commented Rhonda, a smirk decorating her lips.

"Okay, maybe more than a little. Unfortunately, I've never actually had an instrument of my own. And well, at these prices, that won't be changing any time soon." I apologetically handed the guitar back to Jim. "I'm really ever-so-sorry to have wasted your time. I just wanted to have a chance to try this baby out."

"Well… you know… if you really want the guitar, we might be able to work out an installment plan…"

"Seriously? I can have this?"

"Well… it's not store policy, but if I take a few creative liberties with the paperwork, it can be arranged."

"Really? You'd do that for me?"

"I'd do it for any true music lover. You think I work here for the $9.95 an hour? I work here because I love music, and I saw the same love in your eyes the moment you held that guitar for the first time. It was love at first strum. I know the look on sight. That guitar was yours. Ownership was merely a formality."

"Well, gosh, I'm ever-so grateful for-"

"JIM!" An angry, red-faced, heavy-set man, hairless other than bushy mustache and heavy eyebrows that seemed locked in a perpetual scowl, was bearing down on us. "Are you pulling that 'joy of music' crap again? We're to make a profit, not spread *la-di-da voice* sunshine and rainbows across the land! No handouts!"

"I, er, I wasn't giving her a hand-out, I was just going to offer her a reasonable installment plan…"

"And let me guess, you were just gong to let her walk out of here with the instrument on the promise that she'd *sarcastic voice* eventually bring the first payment. We're running a business here, not a magical musical fairyland! If she can't put the money down right now, she doesn't get the guitar. Case closed." He turned toward me, glaring. "Well? Can you?"

"Well, not right now…"

"Case. Closed." The manager reiterated.

"Hey, if money's the problem," began Rhonda, reaching for her purse. I held her arm back.

"It's fine. I'll scrape up the money on my own. I'm not looking for a handout."

"It's not a-"

"We both know it is. When have you _ever_ asked for a repayment on any of the so-called 'loans' you float people? I know you mean well, but I'm going to get Cheryl on my own, okay?"

"But- wait, Cheryl?"

"Yes. Cheryl. I named my guitar. That's normal, right? BB King did it." I grabbed her hand. "Now, come on, let's go to the salon. And don't you dare even think about sneaking back here later to buy me the guitar, because I will find out. Got that?"

"*sigh* Got it. Now let go. You're hurting me."

"Oh." I had no idea just how hard I had been squeezing her hand. I don't know my own strength sometimes..

* * *

_Choice Cuts_

I could tell that Rhonda was still trying to figure out a loophole that would allow her to get me that guitar, because of course she was. Spending her money on her friends was clearly her way to assuage the internal guilt she felt at being born in a state of privilege. It didn't take a Dr. Bliss to determine that. It was sweet, but also kind of annoying at times with her belief that she could fix things by throwing money at them. In truth, I only agreed to let Rhonda in on this trip if she swore she wouldn't use her own money to pay for it. She agreed because the prospect of being locked out of a makeover was even more upsetting to her than the prospect of letting someone pay their own way.

Choice Cuts was like something out of a music video from the 80s, all neon and pastels and angular decorations. All around, cosmeticians were going to work on customers of all genders.

"Rhonda, dear!" a man with a hint of a British accent hailed. "A bit early for you, isn't it?"

"It's not for me this time, Clive," she replied. "My friend Lila here is in the market for a new look."

"…hi," I said, giving a little wave.

"Oh, aren't you just the most precious thing," he gushed. "I swear, if there was a girl like you around when I was your age, things might have been very different for me."

"Don't be too flattered, he says that to all the girls," Rhonda whispered.

"I kind of figured," I replied. "Anyway, it's like she said. I'm looking for a new look that reflects the kind of person I'm becoming."

"Well, that's wonderful. I believe Moira just became free. Oh, Moira…"

"Wait, Moira?" Rhonda interjected. "But isn't that-"

Responding to Clive's call was a woman with a fashion sense that could only be described as… eclectic. Her attire was a neon-green miniskirt, shredded fishnet stockings, black go-go boots, a ragged Union Jack tank top, and criss-crossed white belts. Her face sported eyebrow, nostril, and lip piercings, plus no less than four earrings per ear. Her head was crowned by a lilac-tinted buzzcut crested by a shocking pink mohawk.

"Oh, is this me new client?" the stylist asked. "Cheers. Me name's Moira… but everyone calls me Quirk."

"It's okay, Lila, we can wait for the next-"

"She's perfect," I said. "Let's do this."

* * *

-RHONDA-

The next half hour, for me, was spent in the waiting room pretending to thumb through magazines while inwardly dreading the depredations that Quirk would be visiting on Lila's precious, precious locks. Poor girl. She was truly unprepared for the horrors that were about to be unleashed. I could only hope that her coif would recover by the time school started. I should never have let that poor girl go in alone.

"Rhonda?"

She was done. All right, girl… you can do this You've seen some truly horrible things. You can face this.

I looked up.

"…oh… my word. You look… amazing."

Lila's hair had been shorn down to a spiky pixie cut, with burgundy highlights added to her natural auburn. The intense reds made her green eyes pop all the more.

I knew I was right to trust her.

_No you didn't, _my conscience shot back. _Shut up_, I told it. _I can be a hypocrite if I want to_.

"So, you like it?" she asked.

"I do, but the important thing isn't if I like, it, it's if you like it. Do you like it?"

"I _love_ it," she said, her grin almost on the verge of manic. "At first, I wasn't going to get the highlights, but then I thought, I've gone this far, why not go all the way? So… yeah. This is the new me, and I think I like it." She gave her hair a fluff.

"Okay. Next step is getting you some clothing to complete the new look."

* * *

_*Cue fashion montage to Madonna's "Vogue" as our heroines visit such stores as "Bumbercraston and Plover", "The Void", "Sociologie", "Eternally 19", "Andie's", "Sore Subject", "Voyages", "Pineapple Nation", and others that are totally not parodies of real-world stores. Cue typical "Lila emerges in various silly outfits, Rhonda giving each a "thumbs down", or shaking her head, or visibly gagging at one particularly bad one. Until at last they find the perfect-*_

* * *

"Rhonda?" Lila snapped her fingers in my face. "You kind of blanked out for a second there. Were you having a Hollywood fashion montage fantasy?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Sorry. Any ideas? You clearly have a good idea of what you're looking for."

"Really? You're not going to give any input?"

"Nope. Much as it pains me, I'm going to let you do all the driving on this one. You obviously know what you're doing."

"Hmmm… you sure we can't raid your closet?"

"Uh, how do I put this delicately, Lila… While I would be happy to share my wardrobe, you have certain… differences in anatomy that would make it impossible. By which I mean your tits and ass outclass mine by an order of magnitude." Lila's blush at the wording signified that she still had a bit of a way to go before fully breaking out of her shell.

In the end, we decided on a black T-shirt with a phoenix logo, a denim skirt, and black boots. We also hit the piercing kiosk (Ruth was working it and she's cool, so there were no issues with the whole alien bleeding thing) and got Lila a second piercing per ear; not quite as outrageous as Quirk, but a step forward.

"Well?" I asked. "How do you feel?"

"Pretty great," she said. "I'm not sure exactly how my daddy's going to react, but I did this for me, not for him. Of course, it would've been nice if I could get the guitar too…"

"Yeah," I agreed. "And hell, I'd have an excuse to start my bass lessons back up again. We could jam."

"That would be cool," she agreed back. "Maybe we could even start a band or something…"

"Yeah, that would be great. Maybe we could even get good enough to play the cheese festival when it comes…"

"Well, I suppose maybe I'll be able to save up enough for the downpayment by the end of the summer," she mused. "Of course I'd still have to keep up the payments after that…" She looked at me sideways. "You're still going planning to come back here and buy it, aren't you."

"No, I swear. Actually, I kinda just had this same argument with Nadine when I got her a new game system, so, yeah, I get where you're coming from, okay? I promise I won't buy you the guitar!"

"Good."

Well… technically, if I get the whole gang to chip in to buy it for her birthday on the 27th, then, _technically_, _I'm_ not the one who bought it, am I? Technically. Yes, that should be more than enough rationalization.

"Hmm… I just realized, what are we going to do about Decibelle's hair? It would look kind of weird if she just suddenly showed up with a new haircut…"

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem. I own a ton of wigs. One of them should do the job."

"That's going to be weird."

"I can pretty much guarantee it's not your hair everyone's going to be looking at. Well… I think we're all set, so we have the rest of the day to kill… any ideas, seeing as you're still the one driving?"

"Hmm…" She rubbed her chin. "Well, I was thinking my wrist needs a little something…"

"Oh, like a bracelet?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a thorny vine tattoo."

"…yeah, I think that one would _really_ make your daddy freak out."

"Hmm, yes, I suppose that's true. Perhaps I should hold off until I'm out of the house… yeah, maybe a bracelet would be best. Ooh, there's a bead kiosk!"

"I think that green-and-blue one has your name on it."

"Oh, yes, that's perfect! And maybe this necklace to go with it…."

Well, this was a good day. It was really nice to be back in my element, and get my mind off my troubles. I knew this lull wouldn't last forever, and that soon I'd probably be mired in unwanted family drama, but for right now, life was good.

**A.N.: Short chapter, but an important one, as we get a look at the all-new, all-punk-rock Lila! I really wanted to take her in a new direction that wasn't either "mean girl" (it's been done to death, and beyond), "boring girl to contrast to Helga", or "confidant to Helga but otherwise pretty much the same," which seem to be the three basic modes for Lila in ficdom. I wanted to give her a passion that doesn't revolve around a guy, and music seemed like the perfect one for her. And having her love of music be her mom's legacy to her felt natural. **

**Sstockbridge1986: In the words of a very wise man, "Well, that's, like, your opinion, man." I really don't view ships as sacred, because if you pick the wrong one things could get messy. EXCEPT FOR LUMITY THAT SHIT IS CANON AND I WILL FIGHT YOU IRL IF YOU SAY OTHERWISE. *coughs* Sorry. I've been really into **_**The Owl House**_** lately.**

**PeguinLord: Thank you, I'm glad you like it.**

**Jose: Yeah, that's Clayton's PI's car.**

**Veganmama: Well here it is, hope you like it!**

**See you next chapter!**


	27. Nostalgia Day

Chapter 26

Nostalgia Day

_Gerald Field_

_-HELGA-_

"I dunno," Gerald said. "Feels kinda wrong to do this without Arnold."

"Hey, it's not like life stopped when he left, Geraldo. Besides… if we don't use the lot, the city'd just reclaim it and auction it off to the highest bidder. The last think we need is some big chain store snatching up the last bit of free land in the neighborhood. Now, we gonna play ball or what?"

Every once in a while, the gang got together at Gerald Field for a game of some sort, usually baseball, sometimes football, occasionally soccer… one time Arnold convinced us to try Lacrosse, which was a disaster since no one actually seemed to know the rules. The games became less frequent as we got older since we were all doing our own thing, but we still made it a point to make the time for a game at least once every other month, mostly for the reasons I mentioned above. We worked too hard to claim this space just to let it get gentrified with the rest of Hillwood.

Today, we were just going to go with your classic plain-ol' baseball game against the incoming seniors, pending actually having enough to field a whole team. See, actually getting enough people together was the hard part, since people would have other things on their plate. I don't think we've had a game where everyone showed up in years.

So far, we had Gerald, me, Sheena, Sid, Stinky, Harold (who I'd seen surprisingly little of all season… rumor had it he was trying to get his GED so he could join Patty in California that fall, instead of being a 20-year-old high school junior), Park (talk about a deep cut), and Phoebe (mostly in a moral support capacity), with Brainy serving as umpire. Others were supposed to show up later. I hoped it would be enough, because it was a safe Ludwig would be bringing his A team.

"Maybe we should warm up a bit, on account o' we're all really outta practice," Stinky suggested.

"What're you talking about? We're all at the peak of our athletic skill!" He tossed the ball into his glove to punctuate his statement, but bobbled it spectacularly and balefully watched as it bounced and rolled away. "On second thought, a warm-up would probably be a good idea."

"In his defense, Gerald's been mostly playing football, which requires a completely different skillset," explained Phoebe.

"Yep, you never need to _catch a ball_ in football," I shot back. "All right, let's run some simple drills, people, throwing catching, you know the deal."

It was kind of like a comedy of errors early on, with a lot of missed catches and chasing after balls, but eventually we began to approach something resembling competence. We weren't where we once were back in elementary school.

After about fifteen minutes, Rhonda, Nadine, and some punk chick I didn't recognize showed up fashionably late, as one would expect.

"Hey, who's the new chick?" Gerald asked.

"Why, Gerald," the girl answered in a sweet, innocent voice, "I'm oh-so-certain we've known each other for, just, ever-such a long time."

"N-no way…" Park mumbled.

"Th-that's… that's Lila! She's, like… some kind of punk chick now!" Harold exclaimed, stating the obvious.

"Whillickers," added Stinky. "What an unexpected development."

"Yup," I commented, smirking. "It was bound to happen eventually. Rhonda finally went crazy, and Lila was her unwitting victim."

"Nope," Rhonda replied, returning it. "This is all Lila. All I did was tag along."

"It's true," she replied. "This makeover was entirely my decision. To be perfectly honest, the farmgirl look really didn't suit me anymore. So…" she struck a pose, "You like it?"

The boys enthusiastically nodded. Figures. Lila's got curves for days, and this outfit showed them off perfectly. Not a ton of people staring at me like that…. Not that I'm jealous, or anything. Let Lila have the male attention. The days of me being salty over her are long since gone.

"All right," I interrupted, "Lila looks different now, and we've all had a good look, but let's not forget the reason we're all here. We're here to kick the Seniors' asses at baseball. Now, listen up, 'cause I don't wanna go through this a hundred times. Harold, you're pitching, I'm catching, Park's at first, Gerald's at second, Sid's at short, Stinky's got the hot corner,"

"That's third base," Stinky commented proudly. "I remembered on account'o Phoebe's had to explain it to me half a dozen times."

"Well, turns out you can learn. Will miracles never cease? Anyway, Rhonda, Sheena, and Nadine are left, right and center respectively, Lila's an alternate. All right, hitting drills! Everyone look alive, we're burnin' daylight here!"

* * *

The seniors showed up around an hour after us (technically on-time since that was when the game was actually scheduled; I'd made our own class show up early because I knew we need practice badly). "Well," Ludwig said with a smirk of unearned superiority, "they showed up after all. Guess I owe you ten bucks, Franz."

If Wolfgang and Ludwig were hulking brutes, then Franz was a Titan. Well, over six feet and 250 pounds of solid muscle, he was easily the most imposing figure in school, with fiery red hair and eyes that held no pity. There was something… off about him. Maybe it was the way I'd never actually heard him speak. Of course, that could just be me and my suspicious nature.

Rounding out their squad were Edmund, of course, and the usual background Seniors that I could never be bothered to keep track of the names of. There were a couple of girls here too, for a change; I recognized that chick from the game store who keeps changing her hair color, for one.

"You're one to talk. We've been standing around here waiting for you for an hour, Lurch. I was figuring you chickened out, but I guess not."

"Pataki. Still writin' checks you can't cash with that big mouth of yours, huh? Well, I guess with the football-face outta town, you're not getting' much other use out of it," the big lummox remarked with a leer. Did he- was he implying what I think he- oh, that piece of…

"Hey," Wolfgang interrupted, "Not cool, man." Well, that was a surprise. Wolfgang, of all people, standing up for me? Have I truly slipped into the Berenstein Universe?

"Hey, man, I don't mean anything by it. I'm just sayin' maybe she's cranky because she isn't getting it on a regular basis. Then again..." He rubbed his chin. "I never really did buy that you two were a real couple. I kinda figured he was your cover or something."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you making a point, or can I start ignoring you now?"

"I'm just sayin', you seem like the type that plays for the other team." He snickered as his own "cleverness".

"Ohhhh…" I said, "I get it, you're implying that because I don't conform to your idea of femininity, I'm a lesbian. And this, in your little Australopithecine brain, is something I should be ashamed of. You intend it as an insult. That's cute. That's real cute. Well, then," I hoisted my bat. "If we're done with that waste of time, how about we play some ball?"

His smirk somehow got even more pronounced. "Time was you'd've decked someone for that kind of thing, Pataki. Guess you've gone soft."

He's not worth it, Helga. He's just a stupid Neanderthal who's not worth getting his blood on your knuckles. "So, how are we gonna decide who goes first. Coin flip? Last hand on the bat?"

"Perhaps _Janken_?" suggested Phoebe. "Or, 'Rock Paper Scissors', in Western terminology."

"Sounds fair to me," Wolfgang agreed.

"Hey. I'm not done," Ludwig protested. "This bitch called me an Australian and I want an apology. I am one-hundred percent Canadian and proud of it."

"I didn't call you an Australian, you nimrod. I called you a primitive hominid with a tiny brain capacity." Hey, if you're gonna insult someone, you might as well make sure they understand the insult.

"Oh, that's it, you little _whore_…"

"Take that back."

Just like that, he was between us. I had never seen him move, which I guess shouldn't surprise me. Sneaking up on me without my being aware of it had been his whole _thing_, after all. And now, before I'd had a chance to register it, he was staring down Ludwig."

"Back down, scarecrow, this is between me and her."

"Not until you apologize to her." This was not looking good. Brainy had the height to look Ludwig in the eye, sure, but nowhere near the bulk to actually intimidate him.

"Brainy, I appreciate you defending my honor, but you really don't have to stoop to his level."

Ludwig chuckled. "Looks like you've got a new white knight, Pataki."

"Ludwig. Bro, Seriously." Wolfgang interrupted. "Take it down a notch."

"Jeez, you've been spending too much time with Lloyd. Your balls are starting to wither."

"Just apologize so we can get started," Wolfgang advise, ignoring the barb. Wow. Maybe hanging with the Princess was rubbing off on the guy.

"Fine, I'm sorry. Sorry that she's an ugly bitch."

And then it happened.

*POW*

Brainy…. BRAINY… quiet, blink-and-you-miss-him Brainy… had punched Ludwig square in the nose. For several moments, both stood there. Brainy, staring at his own fist, registering what he had just unthinkingly done. Ludwig, brow knitted, blood trickling from his nostril, processing that he had just been defied by this decidedly unimposing specimen. Once he reached full comprehension, there was only one way this would end if I didn't intervene. And it wouldn't be pretty.

"You just made a big mistake, scarecrow," Ludwig declared, hands forming fists.

To his credit, and probable detriment, Brainy was not backing down. "Apologize to her, Ludwig," he said calmly, perhaps oblivious to, perhaps accepting of, the fact that his most likely fate was that of a greasy smear in the lot's dirt.

"Bro-" began Wolfgang, making a move to hold him back, but Ludwig pushed him aside and swung his fist at Brainy's face.

But it wasn't his face it made contact with. It was my hand. Like I said… this was going to end badly for him if I _didn't_ intervene.

"Outta the way, Pataki. You're gonna get your face messed up. Well, messed up _more_."

"Drop it. Or I drop you. You know I can do it, Ludwig. You know this only ends with one of us winning. You can back out now, or you can leave on a stretcher. Your choice."

"This isn't over, Pataki," he said, backing down.

"C'mon man…" Wolfgang advised the seething brute. "Let's just get back to the game and-"

"I said it's not over!" he said the minute my back was turned, shoving past me and punching an unprepared Brainy, breaking yet another in a long line of pairs of glasses.

"Looks like you made your choice," I said.

The next several minutes were spent beating the absolute bejesus out of him. Somehow, some way, I managed to restrain myself to not break every bone in his body, but by the end, by the time I had fully come back to my senses, he was lying on the ground in a heap and I was rubbing sore knuckles, breathing heavily while everyone just stared. I hadn't done anything like that in years.

"Who's soft now, Van Dyke?" I spat, both figuratively and literally, at him. That'll show him to disrespect me and… oh my gosh, Brainy! The sudden reminder of just whose honor I'd been defending in the first place snapped me back to reality and I hurriedly turned to check on him. He had the beginning of a black eye but otherwise looked okay. "Oh… oh my god, are you okay?" I asked.

"I'll be fine," he replied. "Nothing bruised except my ego. And my face."

"Harold, go get a raw steak from Mr. Green." I demanded. I took another glance back at my handiwork. Wolfgang and Edmund were helping Ludwig to his feet. He cast a final baleful glare at us. Before they escorted him off the field. Obviously, the game was off. "Jeez, I got kinda carried away, didn't I." I commented. "I honestly don't think I've snapped like that since fifth grade."

"I'm not gonna lie," Gerald replied. "That was kind of scary."

"This didn't exactly go how I expected," Brainy remarked ruefully.

"How was it supposed to go?" I asked. "You easily whup the guy who's twice your size? Unless you're secretly a capoeira master, that kinda thing just wasn't gonna happen."

"Why would you specifically pick capoeira out of all the possible martial arts I could secretly be a master of?" Brainy asked, raising the eyebrow not connected to the eye currently swelling shut.

"Oh, I dunno, sexy Brazilian dance fighting, sounds like the kinda eclectic stuff you'd be into."

"Really," he replied, smirking. "You think I'm sexy, Helga?"

I felt myself blushing. "I never said you were sexy, Brainy, I said capoeira was sexy."

"And yet that's where your mind went."

I flushed deeper. "Shut uuuuuup. Anyway, point is, you don't need to beat anyone up to impress me. I don't find toxic masculinity attractive. If I did, I'd be going out with… well… Ludwig." I shuddered at the thought.

"Yeah, I guess that's not really me, I just… I heard him insult you and something snapped inside me. I guess… Dark Brainy came out."

"I get it, and… it's sweet that you stood up to me against an overwhelmingly… I mean, overwhelmingly… like you wouldn't believe how lopsided the matchup was-"

"I _get_ it," he interjected.

"…well, anyway, it was sweet, but I don't need that. I can take care of myself."

"That's pretty obvious. I guess I was just doing what I thought _he_ would do."

"I didn't really like it when he did it either. I mean, yeah, part of me was flattered to have my own personal knight, but the rest of me hated when he would stoop to that level. I'm not a frail flower that needs to be protected."

"Believe me, 'frail' is the last word that comes to mind when I think of you."

There it was, though. "What he would do." I wasn't so naïve as to think that Brainy wouldn't be constantly comparing himself to Arnold and measuring every action he took against him. It was only natural. I was with him a long time, and obsessed with him for even longer. How could Arnold not be constantly in the back of his mind as the Ur-example to which everything must be compared? It was something we were both all-too-keenly aware of… no matter how far this relationship of ours progressed, Arnold Shortman would always be the massive shadow looming over it. We could live in denial of it, hoping it would eventually go away (but knowing full well it never would), or we could acknowledge it, accept it, and try to build what we had in its own way.

"I'm gonna tell him," I said. "About us. He deserves to know, and maybe we can actually let this grow instead of constantly second-guessing ourselves."

"I'm still thinking that 'maybe' would be the operative word there."

"Still, it'll be one less thing on my conscience. I'm sick of it eating at me."

"Hey, I'll back whatever decision you make 100%, just make sure it's what _you_ want, all right?"

Once Harold had returned with a steak, I took Brainy's hand while he applied it. "Okay, guys, I think I'm gonna walk Brainy home, since he can't see worth crap."

"Oooooooh…." Park, Sid, Harold and Stinky collectively cooed.

"Y'know, considering what she just did to Ludwig, you guys must really feel like living dangerously," Gerald remarked. "Speaking of, you know he's not gonna just let this go, right? The dude's been in an' out of juvie for years an' it's not because he's a reasonable guy who knows when he's beat."

"Pfft. I handled him once, I can handle him again."

"I'm just sayin'… watch your back, Pataki. And you also might wanna watch his."

That was something else… I could handle myself, but Brainy was another story.

"Maybe I _will_ take up sexy dance fighting," he mused. "I think they teach it at the Y."

"Wouldn't mind seeing that," I remarked. "Think they offer couples classes?"

* * *

**A.N.: Ludwig is a dick. I always figured Wolfgang could be redeemed someday, but Ludwig… Ludwig is a dick. As for Franz, he may be important later on when the school year resumes, but for now, he's just kinda there. I have to acknowledge that Crea8tivelyBankrupt's original story concept for The Mitigators involved the arrival of two new bullies, one of them named Franz, and while I thought up the idea of a new bully named Franz independently, I should acknowledge he also had the idea so nobody thinks I'm ripping hm off. **

**Sstockbrdge: It's the journey, not the destination.**

**PenguinLord: Glad you like Lila's new attitude.**

**Jose: Some people are just not suited to their jobs.**

**Next: Helga prepares to break the news to Arnold, but has he been keeping something from her? See you next time!**


	28. Cards on the Table

Chapter 27

Cards on the Table

_Late at Night, uptown Hillwood_

Officers Joe Minolta and Monica Fuego arrived on the scene. Even without knowing which store's alarm had been triggered, it was pretty clear which one was the one being robbed. The door to Beuler's Jewelers was completely gone.

"They're getting ambitious," remarked Fuego. "Usually they just pick the lock, not steal the door entirely."

"Look at the hinges," Minolta indicated. "The door wasn't cleanly removed, it was torn off the hinges. Which raises the question of where it is. Unless…" he rubbed his chin, "the door… was the target."

"Dude, who would target a jewelry store and steal the door instead of, oh, I dunno… the _jewelry_?" Fuego reasoned, giving her partner a skeptical side-eye. "More important… who would be strong enough to do this?"

"I can think of four people," Joe remarked.

"Ughhh… no, Joe, let's not go down that road."

"I'm saying, it's entirely possible one of them could go bad. I mean, they're only human, metaphorically speaking… the temptation has got to be there."

"I met the blue one once, you know. She was very polite. No way that girl could ever go bad."

"Don't let your guard down. The sweet ones'll turn on you just like that."

The two detectives cautiously entered the store. "Well, we found the door," whispered Fuego. Indicating the deformed metal rectangle lying a short distance away from the entranceway. A soleprint indicated the door had been kicked in.

"Exhibit B," whispered Minolta. "Human feet can't do that."

A sound from the back of the store interrupted whatever response Fuego was going to give. A figure emerged from the back room, hefting a sack. Minolta's theory was immediately debunked as, number one, the figure was decidedly male, and number two, decidedly human (unless he was somehow hiding extra limbs somewhere on his person). He was dressed in black coveralls and a balaclava, as one might expect from a thief. The only thing out of place was a pair of surprisingly fancy, ornate boots on his feet.

"All right, freeze! Hillwood PSA! Hands where we can see them!" declared Minolta.

The perp replied without a word, merely a simple condescending finger-wag. Then, before either of the officers could reacted, he darted past them at impossible speeds and out the entranceway, leaping into the night as soon as he hit open air.

"Great, just great." muttered Fuego. "It just _had_ to be a supervillain."

'He didn't look like one," Minolta replied.

"They're not all gonna be strutting around in ridiculous outfits. This guy clearly has superpowers, which he probably gets from those crazy boots of his, which are probably magic or something. What else do you call him? In any case, this just got out of our league."

* * *

_The Next Day_

_-HELGA-_

You can do this, Helga ol' girl. You can tell the truth. You've done it before. Sometimes.

Double-clicking the Skype icon, I waited for the program to start up and connect while mentally going over what I was going to say.

_So… hey… dated anyone behind anyone's back lately? I sure have!_

_How many Helgas does it take to cheat? Just one! Me!_

_I kissed Brainy. Anyway, how's San Lorenzo? Are taco bowls cheaper there?_

Ugh, no, no, no. Flippant is _not_ going to work. I have to just lay it all out, straight, and tell him what's going on.

Yes, there it was, my resolve, firming up. I could do this. I could-

"Hi, Helga!"

"H-hey Arnold." Resolve? You there? Where'd you go?

"It's good to see you again. I'm glad you decided to make this a regular thing."

I was flushing now, and I hoped the resolution on his laptop wasn't good enough for him to tell. "I missed you, too, Arnold. It's… really, not the same without you here."

"Well…" He sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "It'll only be a few more months before we're back for the holidays. That'll be nice, right?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "That'll be really nice." Criminy, why does he have to be so damn sweet? It's going to rip his heart out when I tell him I've been seeing someone else. And yet… I owe it to him to be honest with him. Even if t hurts. "Arnold… there's… something I-"

"Arnold?" an unfamiliar voice asked in the background. An unfamiliar _female_ voice.

"…Arnold, who's that?" I asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible. "That doesn't sound like Stella…"

"Well, you see…" he began, looking a bit nervous, before a face leaned into view. The girl had dark skin, straight black hair, and a prominent but not-unattractive nose. Better than mine at least. Something about her gnawed at the back of my mind but I pushed it aside. That was the jealousy talking, the same jealousy that would be there with any other attractive female showing interest in Arnold.

"Hello!" the girl said. Her accent was pronounced but unfamiliar, like someone who had not been speaking English for very long but was a quick study. "It is you, yes? You are the Helga!"

Keeping a smile pasted on my face and my voice as even as possible. I replied "Yes, I'm Helga. Arnold hadn't told me he made a new friend."

The girl bowed a bit. "Has… she forgotten? I know it was a long time ago…"

"Helga," Arnold interjected. "This is Shaia. You remember her, right? She was the Green Eyes' chief's daughter."

…yep. Now it was coming back to me. The native dress and elaborate headgear and green ceremonial facepaint were gone, but yes… that was indeed an older version of the Green Eyes' princess. I remember her well. I especially remember the way the little hussy was looking at him.

"She's a long way from home, isn't she, Arnold?" I asked, neutrally.

"Well… when we came back to San Lorenzo the first thing we did was pay a visit to the Green Eyes, to check up on how they were doing. And, well, Shaia wanted to learn more about the outside world, so she asked her father if she could travel with us. It took a bit of convincing, but, well, here she is!"

"So… learning a lot, are you?" I asked, trying very hard not to clench my teeth.

"Oh, yes, Arnold and his mother and father have taught me very much! Perhaps father will even let me join him when he returns for the holiday?"

Urge to incinerate princess rising… "Gosh, that would be just swell," I lied.

"I am glad! I hope we will be good friends! Do not worry, I shall take care of him until then!" she said guilelessly. "Xothipacla's blessing be upon you," she added, touching her fingertips together and bowing slightly, before exiting.

Oh, yeah. I bet you've been taking _real_ good care of him.

"So… she's been traveling with you, eh?" I asked. "You didn't mention that before."

"It didn't really seem important."

"Oh, of course not, why would you having a close new female friend be important."

"…Helga, is that what it's about? You don't have to be jealous over her."

"Jealous? You think I'm jealous?"

He groaned. "Damn it… I was hoping you wouldn't react this way…"

"What way is that? The way a crazy, irrational ex-girlfriend reacts? Is that what you think I act like, Arnold? Is that why you didn't tell me until your hand was forced?"

"Helga…" he replied, exasperated. "I don't think you're crazy… but you have to admit, you can get a little… intense."

"So you hid the truth from me, is that it?"

I didn't mean to. Helga, I swear, I'd never lie to you on purpose!"

"Why should I be-" And then it hit me.

I didn't believe him… because _I_ had been lying to _him_. And here I was, accusing him of being the one who was dishonest with me. And I knew, deep down, the reason why… because if I got to be the one who was offended, all of my own wrongdoings would be absolved.

But that wasn't true, was it? I was still the liar in this situation. As far as I knew, his and Shaia's friendship really was innocent. And I was projecting my guilt onto hm to avoid coming clean.

I took a deep breath. "…I'm sorry."

Arnold blinked at my sudden change of temperament. "…wait, what?" he asked.

"You're not the one who's been dishonest here… I am. I've… I've been seeing someone."

His face fell. Seeing the change in his expression was like someone drove a barbed needle into my heart and began to slowly pull it out. And, yet… it had to be done, before this could go any further.

"Is it… someone I know?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "It's Brainy."

"Brainy? The guy who used to always sneak up behind you and get his lights punched out?" he asked incredulously.

"Well, there's a lot more to him than that, you know."

"Um… how, uh… how long have you been together?"

"A few weeks," I replied. "And yes, I had just started dating him the last time we talked. I lied to you."

He looked hurt and in went another barbed needle. "Why?" he asked. "I would've understood."

"Would you have, though?" I replied. "I can tell you're hurt by this, and it's not _just_ that I've been lying to you. That's why I didn't tell you… I didn't want to hurt you. But now I've gone and made things worse."

"…well.. yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel bad about you seeing someone else, but… we did agree that we wouldn't hold seeing other people during our break against each other."

"Whose dumb idea was that?" I replied.

"Yours, I think."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. I forgot."

"Do… do you feel anything for him?" he asked, worry in his eyes.

"Nothing like with you, but, I don't know, there's something there. I beat the ever-loving shit out of Ludwig yesterday for hitting him, if that's any indication. Although there are probably totally platonic friends I'd do it for, so that might not man anything."

"Helga, if you really want to be with me, you know we can always just un-break up."

I shook my head. "The point of this whole break was that I need to work on me, and if anything, this chat still proves I have a long way to go. I'm still irrationally jealous, I'm still dishonest, I'm still prone to violent outbursts. When we get back together, I want you to have my best self, and that's not me right now. And I know what you're going to say, 'You're always your best self,' but no, I'm really not. If you really love me, then… you need to respect what I want. And what I want is to improve myself. And that means learning to not unhealthily obsess over you, and if that requires being with someone else for a while, that 's what I have to do."

"Is… is it working?"

"About a week ago, I went a full 24-hour period without thinking about you once. I was kind of alarmed when I realized it, and it hasn't happened since – actually, that was the day before we Skyped the first time, I think I was doing it as a sort of penance – but looking back on it, I'm starting to think it was a good thing, actually."

"I… I guess…"

"It doesn't mean I'm forgetting you. That's never going to happen. It means… it means my entire being no longer revolves around you. Did you know that, for the first time, I'm writing something other than volume upon volume of soppy love poetry? I'm writing sort stories, reviews… I even have some ideas for books. I'm growing more as an artist now than I ever was before. Don't you see? I used to think I needed you to be my muse… but I don't. _I'm_ my muse."

"Well, thanks," he said a bit ruefully. "It's nice to know you've realized how irrelevant I am."

"It's not like that, Football-Head." Okay, so he was upset… but… that was good too. Seeing his passive-aggressive side come out was a reminder that he is not the baston of human perfection that I have built up in my mind, but a simple human being, just like you or me (well, me metaphorically), beholden to all the foibles humans like us are at the mercy of. "I just mean, I'm becoming a better writer simply by vitue of not being so laser-focused on you. You're still important to me. Very important."

"Okay…" He rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "Great, now I'm the needy, insecure one."

"Horror of horror, you have _flaws_. How will you ever cope?"

He chuckled a bit in spite of himself. "Okay, okay… I guess this wasn't the best showing for ether of us."

"Yeah… but it does feel a lot better to have the truth out in the open like this. Now we're on even footing."

"Yeah… I guess it does. Um… would it be prying to ask exactly how you guys got together?"

"Not at all. The truth is, we just sorta bumped into each other while Mom, Phoebe and I were on vacation. Funny thing, it was the exact same town where we got into that sand castle competition and that bimbo tried to sink her claws into you. And, I don't know, I guess he was there at just the right time, because we found ourselves clicking and the next thing you know, he asks me out and I said yes."

"He asked you out? Just like that?"

"Well, not just like that, first Summer tried to kidnap him in some deranged attempt to get back at me, so I had to rescue him. I actually didn't harm her, Arnold. You would've been very proud of me. Anyway, I guess he asked me out by way of thanks, and I figured it'd be a one-time thing, but… one time turned into two, and two into three, and, well, we haven't had the fourth yet, but that's still coming."

"Whoa, back up… Summer kidnapped Brany? Talk about burying the lede!"

"To be fair, it wasn't much of a kidnapping. He was gone an hour and a half, tops. But Temper gave her a scare and I think she might have learned her lesson."

"That's… surprisingly optimistic from you."

"Yeah, I think you may have ruined me for good, Football Head." I said, grinning. "So, what about you? You hit that?"

"Helga!" he replied, scandalized.

"Just kidding! But seriously… I wouldn't blame you if you did. She is _hawt. _And, hey, royalty. She's the princess of more than appliances."

Arnold blushed. "I, uh… really, it never even crossed my mind."

"Yeah, but what about hers? I'm sure she's noticed you."

"Helga, she just gave us the Xothipacla's blessing."

"And I would know who that is because…"

"Xothipacla is the Green Eyes' goddess of love and um…" he blushed even deeper, "fertility."

I felt myself blushing in response. "So, you're saying she just suggested we –"

"….that's about the size of it, yeah." He flashed that wide nervous smile of his and I almost said fuck it, let's get back together again.

But I didn't.

"Does she know that the Internet doesn't really work like that?" I replied, stifling giggles.

"It hasn't really come up, but, well, I figured-"

"'Cause otherwise it'd be kind of a stretch. Not that I've, you know, seen it…" Not true. I have. Once. Of course, he was nine and I did immediately faint from shock so I don't really have a vivid memory of the dimensions, and I assume they would have changed regardless. But I digress.

"Helga," he pleaded, "I'm really not comfortable talking about this…"

"Sorry. S'just funny is all. Seriously, though… are you okay with me dating Brainy?"

"I will be. Would you stop if I said I wasn't?"

"To be honest… I don't really know. Like I said… I feel like being with someone else for a while is an important part of my development. Maybe…" I nodded over to where Shaia had come back into view. "Maybe it's also something you should consider."

"You're kind of hard to replace."

"Don't think of it like a replacement. Think of it like… ordering off menu. Like when you ask for the Noah's Ark at Slausen's". That was two beef, two chicken, and two fish patties, plus two strips of bacon. To date, only one person has ever finished one in one sitting. No, not Harold.

He chuckled. "So, she's a dangerously high-calorie sandwich that should probably be banned?"

"Granted, the metaphor falls apart if you look at it too closely. But you get my point. It's not a new path, it's just a detour on the original. We're going off-road to look at the sights. In time, we'll get back on track." I groaned. "They should take my writer card away for coming up with all these labored metaphors."

"I got the general gist of it."

"I mean… we started dating in sixth grade. We don't exactly have a ton of experience outside each other. I mean, you were with Lila for all of two minutes, and I was _paying_ Stinky to date me. Other than that, it's just been us, for five years. We need some perspective. And if that means I have to share you with a princess for a few months, so be it."

"I don't really think anything's there, Helga."

"I never said there was, I'm just saying _if_… don't stay lonely on my account."

* * *

Well… that had been shockingly easy. Maybe even a bit disturbingly so.

I remained staring at my desktop for some time after we finally ended our chat, mulling over the fact that not only had I (eventually) told Arnold everything, I had given him full carte blanche to woo, or be wooed by, Shaia. And somehow it didn't feel like I was tearing out my own insides. Was this it? Was this what growing up was like?

And if it was this easy to cut Arnold some slack… would I eventually just move on? Was it entirely possible that he was _not_ my destiny?

Would that be the end of the world?

…

"Time to distract myself," I said to nobody, shutting my laptop. Luckily, this town provided ample ways to distract yourself, especially if you had superpowers. I shed my clothes, donned my costume and morphed, letting myself out the window as I usually did. Taking out my mixed emotions on some ill-intentioned criminals would be just the kind of catharsis I needed.

Truth told, I was still feeling salty about missing a chance to throw down with a genuine space biker. Criminals around Hillwood rarely provided that big of a challenge. Having to live the whole battle vicariously through Lila was beyond disappointing. Oh, well, punching the occasional purse-snatcher or carjacker was at least a bit diverting. Still, was a challenge so much to ask?

As if the cosmos themselves had heard my plea, I caught sight of something suddenly launching itself into the air. I was kind of reminded of the time Sid, Stinky and Harold had gotten their hands on a potato catapult and shattered several second-story windows, but that hadn't had this kind of range (it was clearing tall buildings in a single bound), and whatever ordinance I was seeing launched was far bigger than even the most prize specimen of potato. I set my flight course for where the mystery object looked like it was going to land, only to see it launch upward again. By now, I was close enough to see that I was not dealing with an it, but a who. A who that could jump like a grasshopper on steroids. I briefly considered whether to call the other girls in on my discovery, but decided against it. One, I seriously was craving some real action, and two…. So the guy could jump. How much trouble could he or she be?

* * *

**A.N.: Next: How much trouble he can be. **

**Anyway, yep, we're staying with Helga/Brainy for the time being. As to whether Arnold and Shaia of the Green Eyes will get together, time will only tell. Remember, it's the journey, not the destination.**

**Minolta and Fuego are basically just reskins of Jake Peralta and Rosa Diaz from **_**Brooklyn 99**_**. This wouldn't be the first time I ripped off that show, but in my defense, I'm a big fan.**

**Jose: He sure does, but is he the type to give up, or will we see more of him?**

**Next: From the Word Jump**


	29. From the Word Jump

Chapter 28

From the Word Jump

The press was calling him "The Jumpster."

Awful, awful name. He would have preferred "Springheel Jack". That had style, it had panache, it had folklore appeal. "The Jumpster" was just lazy, plus, it rhymed with "dumpster". No class at all.

Frankly, if it was up to him, he'd be committing all these thefts in tailored silk finery, as the gentleman thief he'd always dreamed of being, but that was simply impractical considering all the jumping and running around he did. That, and, while he had the aspirations of a gentleman, he lacked the budget of one. What money he'd had had gone toward the purchase of the enchanted boots he currently wore on his feet.

Jack (that was indeed his first name, so it all worked out quite well), first heard of the mysterious traveling emporium in an online chatroom; a user named GreybeardTheWizard had claimed that he'd purchased a magic staff that had turned out to possess actual power to warp reality to his whims. The staff, so he said, had been destroyed and its remains confiscated by Joule (or, as he called her "that purple demon slut"), leaving the guy powerless and frankly, very whiny about the situation. _That's what you get for not thinking, _Jack had thought at the time. If he'd had the staff, oh, the things he could have done. For one, he'd have gone for a real score instead of just using his power to lord it over some nerds. He would steal until he was so rich that he didn't have to steal anymore, and then he would only go after the rarest, most valuable finds, just for the fun of it, as a true gentleman thief would do.

At that point, Jack had made it his business to track down the mysterious emporium. This would prove to be quite difficult, since, according to the information he gleaned, it could never be found in the same place twice; in fact, everyone who described it claimed to have stumbled upon it completely by accident.

In fact, that's how Jack had finally discovered it, just as he was beginning to doubt it had ever truly existed.

_He'd decided to grab something from Gino's Souvlaki, only to discover that the Greek eatery had been replaced, seemingly overnight, with the fabled shop. Upon returning the next day, Gino was back with absolutely no explanation, seemingly unaware that he had left in the first place. That should have thrown up a ton of alarms, but by then, Jack's purchase was already paying off, so he really didn't see any reason to quibble._

_Anyway: the store seemed much larger on the inside than its outward appearance would have one believe. All sorts of relics were on display. Jack examined each in turn. _

_A big ugly gold glove with multicolored jewels on the knuckles? Nah, that'd never fit him. A small gold ring with weird runes engraved on the inside? He wasn't much of a jewelry person. An earthenware goblet with Hebrew writing on it? Looked old. Probably dirty. So far, this place was proving disappointing._

_Wait… here was something… a pair of crimson boots with gold trim. Those would be perfect…_

"_Ahh, I see something has caught your eye." He was behind Jack before it even registered that someone else had been in the room… or, had there been? He didn't remember seeing anyone when he'd entered. He whirled to face the man behind him. He was tall, slim, and dressed in an impeccably-tailored red suit, with a black shirt and white tie. He had red hair that was slicked back and a long pointy goatee, and his head was topped off by, naturally, a top hat. _

"_Are you the devil?" he asked._

"_What?" the mystery man responded. "No, that's absurd. What would make you think that?"_

"_Well, you know. Store from out of nowhere full of weird stuff, guy with red suit, pointy beard, and creepy voice…"_

"_My, what an imagination you have."_

"_Well, I'm just saying, you really, really look the part."_

"_No, no, I'm afraid I'm no one of that much import. I am simply a man who likes to make dreams come true."_

"…_and, you're NOT the devil."_

"_No!"_

"_Then what do I call you?"_

"_Just call me 'The Proprietor'. That will do."_

"…_see, that just the kind of thing the devil would call himself if he was running a mysterious shop full of oddities…"_

"_I'M NOT THE DEVIL!" the Proprietor snapped, exasperated._

"…_hey, I'm not judging, I'm just not sure I wanna pay for a pair of fancy boots with my immortal soul is all."_

"_That's not what's happening here!"_

"_Cool, just making sure. So, how much for the boots? Don't really have much on me."_

"_Well, I'm certain we can come to some sort of arrangement. How much do you have?"_

_Jack checked his wallet. "I guess I can spare about $50.00…"_

_The Proprietor snatched up the bill. "Well, that's good enough for a downpayment. We can work out the rest on installment."_

"_Downpayment? How expensive __are__ these boots?"_

"_Oh, you'll find these are no ordinary boots. Let's just say… they'll put a spring in your step."_

_Jack took the boots. "Okay, um… so, how are we going to work out the payment schedule…" _

"_Oh, don't worry about that. I'll find you when the time is right."_

_That was a lot more ominous than Jack had been expecting. "But you're __not__ the devil…"_

"_Just go!" the Proprietor insisted, practically shoving him out the door, slamming it behind him._

_Jack stood there with the boots, staring at them, not sure why he'd just blown his last fifty bucks (plus "installments") on them. Sure, they were fancy, bright red with gold embroidering, but they really didn't go with anything he had. Would they even fit him? He'd never even had the chance to try them on. He'd bought a pair of boots that he wasn't even sure he would be able to use. Was there something in the air in that store? He'd heard of storeowners pumping in scents that would make people more likely to spend money. Had he been a victim of such manipulation?_

_Well… he'd spent the money, so he might as well see if the boots actually fit. He kicked off his worn-out Beeboks (the real thing was well out of his price range) and slipped the boots on. Surprisingly, they fit perfectly. More than perfectly, actually. It felt like they had actually been custom-made to fit his slightly-irregular feet._

_He took some experimental steps in the boots, surprised at how light on his feet he felt, In fact, it felt as if he weighed nothing at all. How was this possible? He'd just purchased them, and yet it felt like he'd been wearing them all his life. He started to walk home, slowly, but the boots felt so light and comfortable that he quickly broke into a jog, then a run, then a faster run. And before he even realized it, he found himself clear on the other side of Hillwood. _

_He checked his watch. Somehow…. He had run clear across the entire city in mere minutes._

"_Spring in my step, huh," he muttered to himself. And took an experimental jump. Moments later, he was on the roof of a building five blocks away._

_Oh, yes… these were definitely worth fifty bucks. Plus installments._

His latest caper had been a watch store on Lane St. After picking out the one that suited him best, he would sell the rest on the Dark Web. Then, maybe a couple more jobs, and he'd move on, perhaps to Tacoma or Portland. Best not to stay in one place until the heat built up, that was a good way to get caught. At least that's how it seemed to work for all the Gentleman Thieves he'd read about.

The thing about the boots, though, was, as light on your feet as they made you, they still didn't compensate for Jack's lack of athletic conditioning. He still needed to rest every other jump. His last had landed him on the roof of a small apartment building. It was unlikely the coppers would be able to catch up with him up here for a while, so he decided to take advantage of his lead to take a rest.

Unfortunately, he'd forgotten Hillwood's other more freelance breed of law enforcement, one that could follow him far more easily. He was quickly reminded, though, when he heard the flutter of leathery wings, and the sound of a newcomer setting foot on the roof behind him. He turned to face a tall, blonde-haired, pink-skinned female sauntering forward, her wings folding around her shoulders as she regarded him. "So," she quipped, "this doesn't seem to be your everyday moonlight stroll. What's in the sack? Is it swag? I bet it's swag."

Well, she was a girl with horns, fangs, and multiple extra limbs, but she was still a girl. And as a gentleman thief, it was his sworn duty to turn on the charm. "Ah, greetings, my fair lady." he said. "Temper, I presume? I had heard there were some rather powerful young women patrolling this city, but I had no idea they would be quite this lovely."

The mutant girl cocked her head skeptically. "Are you really trying this?" she asked.

"Oh, I assure you, this is no act. I am merely spellbound by your unfathomable charm. Perhaps Temper s the wrong name for one so beguiling as you. May I suggest… Temp_tress_?"

Temper facepalmed. "You really are. You are actually trying to pull the 'seduce the heroine with flattery' bit. Sad… So… what name am I gonna give the fuzz when I hand you over."

This was not gong well, but perhaps he could still salvage this. "Ah, but of course." He bowed gracefully. "Allow me to introduce myself. They call me Springheel J-"

"Oh, hey, wait," the heroine interrupted. "I'm just getting an update on you over my suit's infolink. Wow… you've been busy, haven't you… jewelry store last night, overpriced nerd collectibles today. Oh and there's a nae here." She paused for a moment. "They call you… *snicker* The Jumpster?"

"That was not the name I chose," he replied.

"Oh, no, no, of course not, I mean, who would choose… the Jumpster." She took a deep breath, and then burst out laughing. See, _this_ was what he was afraid of.

"Are you quite done?" he asked after nearly a full minute.

"*gasp* Give me a *gasp* minute… okay… I'm done. *beat* Nope. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"I don't need this," Jack muttered, He had not had much of a chance to rest, but perhaps he could at least jump far enough to shake her. He gathered what strength he had and leapt as far into the night as he could.

* * *

-HELGA-

Man, I needed a good, solid laugh like that. Really clears out the ol' chakras. Nothin' like having a total loser to goof on, is there? Unfortunately, it also gave said loser a chance to escape. Now, I was stuck trying to figure out exactly where he would come down, and that would be anyone's –

…wait, what am I doing?

"Bridgi, can you calculate the perp's landing point from the angle and velocity of his jump?"

"_I can_." the AI replied evenly.

*groan* Ugh, really? Why did Bridget have to give her AI such a snotty personality? "_Would_ you? _Please_?" I restated.

"_Working_," it said. My visor's HUD threw up an overlay of a map of the immediate neighborhood with the Jumpster's (try not to laugh again) landing point marked.

"Thanks." I don't know why I thanked her. Maybe I figured being polite for a change would make her less difficult in the future? Who knows. Too much of this and I might start treating her like she's a real person. Hell, I'm already calling her "her".

It was a quick enough flight to intercept the guy. His jump was high, but the arc was pretty tight and he landed only a few blocks over in the alley next to the Kitka theater. I was only about thirty seconds behind him, and it looked like he was still pretty winded.

"Hi again," I said. "We could keep doing this, or you could give up. The sooner you do, the less aggravated I get. Believe me, you would prefer me less aggravated." I advanced on him.

"S-stay back," he warned, crouched in what I guess he thought was a fighting stance.

"Really, you're just making this harder on yourself. Now, if you come quietly, I don't even have to hit y-"

Before I could finish my sentence, the so-called Jumpster (heh) lashed out with his left foot. I reflexively tried to catch it with my lower hands, but somehow, the boots enchantment made his foot move faster than even my hands could, and the boot caught me squarely in the solar plexus. The impact felt like a cannonball had hit, completely knocking the wind out of me. While I staggered back, the Jumpster followed up, with far more sklll than I expected from him, with a jumping right kick that propelled me clean across the street and through the window of the fried chicken place on the opposite side, surprising several insomniac diners. I tried to say something witty and reassuring but "…owwww…" was all I could manage. I lay there for several minutes trying to pull myself together. Whatever mojo was in those boots had been a lot more than I had bargained for. I was so dazed that I hadn't even registered that the patrons were probably filming me on their phones all the while. I did not remain ignorant for long, since I was soon shocked out of my daze by a voice over my suit's comm.

"_Temper_?" Phoebe's voice came in over my earpiece. "_Are you all right_?"

"Jus' peachy, Pheebs," I replied woozily. I probably shouldn't have used her real name, but that kick took a surprising lot out of me. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"_Well, there is the fact that a video of you crashing through the window of Boop's Chicken and Biscuits just went viral_."

"*sigh* Of course it did." I managed to pull myself up off the floor. "It's nothing to worry about. I just got taken by surprise is all. It won't happen again."

"_Are you sure you don't want some backup?"_ she asked. "_I can be over there in-"_

"It's fine," I said. "It's just one guy. Now that I know what I'm dealing with, I won't make the same mistakes twice."

"_Okay, if you say so… just remember, there's no shame in calling for backup if you need it_."

"I won't need it."

"You say that now, but remember Blazefrost?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." Blazefrost was a villain I fought two and a half years ago who claimed he got superpowers from crystal meth. I figured he was just a delusional methhead with a spandex fetish, but it turned out meth actually did make him incredibly strong, fast, and gave him some kind of burning aura. He almost handed me an embarrassing smackdown before Phoebe arrived to back me up. "That was different, though. I'm pretty sure I've seen everything this guy has to offer, so the odds of him getting the drop on me are pretty much zero."

"All right. I'm not convinced, but I'll back off for now."

"Thanks." The last thing I needed right now was someone else getting in my way. This was personal now.

* * *

**A.N.: Another short chapter, sorry. I've been having wrist problems lately so I took a short break, and chapters may be a bit less frequent in the coming weeks.**

**Helga's reaction to the Jumpster's name is basically a word-for-word copy of Spider-Man's reaction to Paste-Pot Pete, and the Jumpster name itself is just a setup for a pun next chapter. Also, no, he isn't anyone we already know. As for Blazefrost, he's a tribute to DC's greatest supervillain ever, the legendary SNOWFLAME! Look him up, he's a hoot.**

**Jose: More of the Jumpster (or Springheel Jack as he would prefer to be called here), as well as a follow-up to the LARP chapter, showing where Todd got the magic staff.**

**JayDogg: Thanks for the reviews, I don't care how late they are! Hope you're still enjoying the show.**

**VeganMama: Yep, Helga's maturing, though she still has her reckless moments (the way she handled Ludwig will likely have repercussions). **

**Next: De-Feet. (Sorry.)**


	30. Just for Kicks

Chapter 29

Just for Kicks

or

Best Foot Forward

_Now this was more like it_, Jack thought as he regarded himself in the three-way mirror. Since his defeat of Temper a week ago (a feat that still astounded him), Jack had gained a huge boost in confidence.

Well, it wasn't so much a "defeat" as it was scoring a lucky hit, then taking advantage of it to make his escape, then laying low for a few days while fencing his ill-gotten gains. Still, six of one, etcetera. He had, if only momentarily, scored a victory over a superhero, which meant he had arrived. And that meant it was time for a wardrobe upgrade. The black coveralls and ski-mask, while practical and cheap, were not befitting of a _real_ supervillain. Springheel Jack (he would make the name stick if it killed him) deserved a wardrobe fit for the gentleman thief he was.

And so, he had acquired (from one of those places that sells prom outfits) a powder-blue silk tux, black shirt, and white ascot and cummerbund, completing the look with a matching top had and an ornate Venitian-style Carnivale mask, in red and gold to match the boots.

Well, now that he had his look down, it was time to step up his game, find a heist worthy of himself. These penny-ante crimes just would not do for a criminal of his calibre.

He scanned his news feed, which was programmed automatically to forward him news of his own exploits. A Hillwood Gazette front page covering his humiliation of Temper (the headline: "CHICKENING OUT? SUPERHEROINE GETS SERVED WITH SIDE OF WAFFLES" complete with viral photo of the heroine herself lying in the wreckage of the salad bar) now served as his desktop wallpaper. The first of many triumphs, to be sure. He scanned the local news for potential ideas, when his eyes fell upon an exhibit at the Guggelfleim Museum.

THE GUGGELFLEIM PRESENTS

LESSER-KNOWN MASTERPIECES

The Guggelfleim Museum is pleased to announce the acquisition of several little-known pieces from well-known artists, recently donated from the collection of philanthropist Randall Peavine. The works include Gainsborough's _Mauve Boy_, Whistler's _Second Cousin Once Removed_, Van Gogh's _Slightly Overcast Nigh_t, Munch's _The Grimace, _and Rembrandt's _The Weekend Watch_, among others. The collection will be launched with an exclusive invitation-only event tomorrow evening.

Invitation only, hmm? Well, uncouth as it was to crash a party, perhaps this was just the sort of thing that would put Springheel Jack's career on the map.

* * *

_Four days earlier, at Slausen's_

_-HELGA-_

Three nights. Three nights since the Jumpster (I was no longer laughing) had humiliated me. Three fruitless, pointless nights while the world was laughing at me. Three nights without even a peep out of the guy. For all I knew, he was gone with the wind, and with him my chance to redeem myself.

The videos and photos of me crashing through a chicken place's window and colliding with a salad bar, of course, were all over the internet. Overnight, I had gone from hero to meme. Late-night hosts were using me as a punchline. It was aggravating.

"Well, now you know how it felt that time I, um…"

"…farted in front of the whole school?" I supplied.

"Yes… that," Phoebe replied, a bit snippy.

"That was different. There weren't frickin' newspaper headlines. There aren't a dozen 'Epic Fail' compilations featuring you all over TubeTube." I eyed the slowly-melting triple-scoop banana split in front of me. Even ice cream wasn't helping today. Even ice cream paid for by someone else. "Face it, I'm a laughingstock. I'm a city-wide joke *sigh* And for all I know, he's split town and I'll never be able to catch him and clear my rep."

Rhonda groaned. "We took you out to cheer you up, not so you could wallow."

"Well, can you blame me? The guy was a joke. He acted all pompous-like, like one of those 'gentleman thieves' from those animes that you girls love so much, but he was this shrimpy dork in cheap thief clothing. And he still got the best of me! And now everyone's laughing at me and I won't be able to get past it until I take him down, and so far I've seen neither hide nor hair of him!"

"I'm certain this will all blow over, eventually," Lila attempted to assure, with a sympathetic shoulder pat.

"Maybe, but _I'll_ always remember it, and it's just going to eat at me until I get another crack at him… and who knows when that'll be."

Nadine, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly snapped her fingers. "Honeypot!" she said.

"Ewww!" I replied. "You want me to try to seduce him? Gross!"

"No, no, not that," Nadine responded. "I mean, we need to lure him. Offer something he can't resist. You said he has these pretentions of being some kind of flashy master thief?"

"Yeah…"

"Well… what if we set up this opportunity for him to pull a flashy heist, complete with an audience? You know… plant something in the news, and just wait for him to show up so you can have your chance to collar him?"

"Hmmm," Rhonda replied, rubbing her chin. "My father does have contacts at the Guggelfleim… perhaps I can ask him to set up some kind of short-notice event to catch our friend's attention?"

"Yes…" nodded Phoebe. "While Helga conceals herself until he appears, then nabs him when the time comes."

"Nadine and I can act as lookouts, under the cover of being the daughter of a wealthy donor and her date. That is, if it's okay with you, Butterfly…"

"Honestly, it's just kinda nice to be involved for once," Nadine answered. "Even if I do have to dress up."

"Fake gallery event?" I scoffed. "That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard. Let's do it."

* * *

_Five Days Later, the Guggelfleim_

_-RHONDA-_

True to my word, I had explained the plan to my dad. It turned out that the museum had, in fact, recently received a donation so an event actually was in the works. I convinced him to persuade the museum staff to move up the date for the installation in exchange for certain… concessions (I wouldn't be going on any big shopping sprees anytime soon), but in the end, arrangements were made and announcements were placed. And soon, the day came.

"I feel so out of place," whispered Nadine as the two of us entered the gallery.

"Well, if it's any consolation, you look positively radiant." Nadine blushed at the compliment. She wore a rather simple sapphire cocktail dress, accented by some jewelry we'd "borrowed" from my mom. Her gold braids were gathered into an elaborate French knot. I myself wore a red-and-black off-the-shoulder gown and a diamond pendant with matching earrings. We made a lovely couple, if I must say so myself.

"Still, this isn't exactly my crowd, if you know what I mean," she replied.

"I know. I owe you big for tonight. I promise, next time we'll do any gross nature thing you want to do, no matter how disgusting."

"Oh, that's okay, you don't-" She paused. "Welllll, I did want to go check out Povenmire Marsh sometime… get a good look at the ecosystem there so I can get a jump on my AP Biology work."

I shuddered inwardly. I did say "anything"… "As you wish."

"Besides, I should probably get used to it. Being your girlfriend probably means I'm going to wind up at a lot of these things just by default."

"Wanna know the truth?" I asked. "I don't enjoy these things nearly as much as I let on. They can be dreadfully boring. To be perfectly honest… I have more fun camping with you than I do going to cocktail parties alone."

"Be honest… it's not so much the _camping_ that you have fun with."

"Ha! Got me. I'm just saying, being with you makes me appreciate things that I would otherwise find unbearable."

"Awww…."

The two of us entered the main gallery, which was already starting to fill up with the cream of Hillwood society. I had to wonder what they'd think if they knew they were all here for an elaborate trap.

"Ooh, hey," Nadine whispered, nudging me. "I think I found some art I like," she said, noting a display of nature photos. "Check out this hummingbird. You can really see the detail."

"Oh, yeah, Alan Redmond. Yeah, he's got a really good eye for capturing color and motion. You know, technically, his dad is your boss."

"I don't really know art, I just know what I like. Ooh. Something else I like. Free finger foods." She made a beeline to a waiter handing out shrimp puffs. I had to admit, even for a fake event, they were really selling it.

On a neighboring rooftop, behind a billboard, Helga was keeping watch on the exterior of the museum. If the Jumpter approached from the outside, Helga would intercept him and take him out. The two of us were here if he somehow managed to get inside unseen. Until then, there really was nothing to do but mingle, nibble, and keep watch. Both of us were equipped with a concealed microphone; the second anything went down, Helga would be alerted and come in through the skylight, which had been rigged by Bridget to open for Helga, to handle the situation.

Time dragged on, and I was starting to wonder if maybe the bad guy had seen through this sham. For all any of us knew, he really was clever enough to have skipped town at the first opportunity, and all this was just a waste of time. As the party dragged into the second hour, I grew more convinced that that was the case. My attention began to wander, and I got lost in a Mondrian, not looking where I was going, bumping into another patron. "Oops, sorry, my fault, I wasn't looking where I was going…"

"No, it's fine, I understand Mondrian's work can be quite captivating – oh, my stars, how unexpected!"

I recognized the voice immediately. "Mr. Simmons?" Well, this was an awkward situation. I had to remind myself Mr. Simmons hasn't been my teacher in over five years, because the familiar panic of running into your teacher outside of school was beginning to well up.

"That it is, Rhonda, and I must say, it's a very special pleasure to run into one of my old students. How have you been?"

"Oh, you know… studying… keeping my grades up… staying on the straight and narrow…"

Mr. Simmons chuckled. "Oh, I get it, the old 'randomly running into your old teacher in public' awkwardness. Well, there's no reason to worry, Rhonda. Out here, I'm just Robert Simmons, art appreciator. There's no reason for any awkwardness."

I chuckled nervously myself. "Right, right… besides, it's not like you're going to be teaching me again anytime soon…"

"Actually, I'm pleased to say that I've accepted a position teaching drama at South Hillwood High this coming year, so it's quite possible that I will be your teacher this semester. Isn't that wonderful? He squinted past me. "Oh, is Nadine here too?"

"Yes, she's… here with me, actually. She's my, uh, date."

"Oh, that's wonderful! I had no idea the two of you were together."

"It's been a few years, actually…"

"Oh, I remember when I first met my Peter… those heady first days of what would one day become a lasting and special relationship… there's nothing quite like that…"

"Yes, it's very exciting…" Oh lord please deliver me from discussing relationships with my _teacher_… where's a supervillain attack when you need one?

The case for the existence of a supreme being got another checkmark as a swift blur made its way through the crowd and suddenly, he was there. Helga'd described his outfit as fairly dull and utilitarian with the exception of the boots, but apparently in the week or so since their last encounter, the Jumpster had decided to go for a wardrobe upgrade and was now clad in pseudo-Edwardian finery, complete with top hat, Carnivale mask, and an ornate walking stick for that extra layer of pretentiousness. Surreptitiously, my hand slipped into my handbag seeking the small transmitter Bridget had rigged for us, to signal Helga.

"Greetings, Ladies and Gentlemen of Hillwood's fine society, It is my pleasure to inform you that this gallery is about to have the honor of being robbed by yours truly, Spr-"

"Oh, my word, that must be the fellow that all the pares have been talking about… the Jumpster!" one society matron exclaimed

"…yes, well, I would prefer it if you all would call me 'Springheel Jack,' as 'The Jumpster' is a stupid name. Now, if you don't mind, I believe I shall be claiming these Old Masters, so if you would kindly step out of my way…"

I was trying to think of a way to stall the guy so Helga would have the time to show up, but I needn't have bothered, because either Mr. Simmons had gotten the same idea, or his natural desire to help people had prompted him to intervene; in either case, he raised his had, as if life was just a larger classroom, and cleared his throat. "Uh… Mr…. Jack? Is all of this really necessary?"

"Excuse me?" the thief asked, bemused.

"I mean, it seems to me that all this is just an elaborate cry for attention. Now, I understand that we all have our own way of expressing ourselves, and this is how you choose to express yourself, and that's okay… but you have to take care that your manner of self-expression doesn't harm others."

"Oh, I assure you, my good man, I have no intention of hurting anyone. I am not a crude man."

"Yes, well, while it's admirable that you want to avoid causing physical harm, you must understand that depriving the public of these priceless works of art is itself a _kind_ of harm. Surely you don't want to b responsible for that, do you?"

"Yes, well, though it does distress me that my actions will deprive the public of such masterworks, I believe that in doing so, I shall create something even more valuable… a deeper appreciation of their worth."

Yeesh. What a windbag this guy was. C'mon, Helga…

* * *

-HELGA-

Being alone on a rooftop waiting gives you a lot of time to reflect on yourself and your motivations. Like, what was the point of this whole operation? We set up this whole fake event and invited people to make it look official, all in an effort to lure a supervillain out of hiding. I'd assumed, from his courtly demeanor, that the Jumpster was nonviolent and wouldn't harm civilians, but what if I was wrong? What if people got hurt because of this? And for what, anyway? My reputation? Have I learned nothing? For years, I acted like a jerk to protect my reputation, and in the end, what did it get me? Heartache. Nothing but heartache. And yet, here I am taking huge risks with the public because people posted some stupid memes.

Unfortunately, at this point it was far too late to call things off. Either he showed up, or he didn't. If he didn't, then he'd be the One that Got Away, and I'd have a blot on my record, but really, who cares?

…damn it, I did. Even knowing how selfish it was to be this concerned with my reputation, I still knew that this sort of thing would eat away at me. I really did need to learn to let go of things, but… knowing you needed to do it and actually doing it were two very different things.

As I kept watch and waited for the beep in my earpiece that would signal action, I devised elaborate mindgames to keep my mind off my moral dilemma. Pick a random word and think up as many rhymes as I could. Attempt to reconstruct entire _Simpsons_ episodes purely from memory. Try to remember all the tracks from my ten favorite albums. Honesty, at this point, I wasn't sure whether pointless mental busywork was an improvement over endless recursions of self-admonishment. Either way, I was bored. I should have brought a boo. Or a snack, or both, preferably.

After about an hour, I was fairly sure that the whole thing had amounted to a waste of time. I was just about to text the girls to pull out when I caught a blur out of the corner of my eye headed toward the museum entrance. Could this be it, or was my boredom making me see things? I got my answer a minute later when my signal went off.

"Showtime, Bridgi. Open the hatch," I said as I leapt off the rooftop. "Please," I added, not really wanting to deal with unneeded snark from the AI at this point.

All right. This was it. All the memes in the world can't ruin a really badass entrance, and dropping dramatically through a skylight, wings majestically spread behind you, as you nail a perfect landing in the middle of a crowd certainly qualified.

"Well. It seems we meet again," the Jumpster said as I landed. "Couldn't get enough of me, I assume."

"You're right. I couldn't get enough of hauling your ass to jail. Let's fix that, shall we? Nice outfit by the way."

"Yes, I think it suits me. Shall we dance?" he inquired, raising his walking stick as if it was a sword. I hesitated, wondering if he'd added a new gimmick to his arsenal. Did the stick do anything? There was no way of knowing unless he did anything with it. I could use my fire powers, but I didn't want to indoors for fear of triggering the sprinklers and damaging any artwork. And so, we stood there for a moment, assessing each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

And then Nadine threw a shrimp puff at him from behind. It was just enough of a distraction that I was able to clear the distance between us and grab his wrist, forcing him to drop the stick, while planting my feet on his, effectively nullifying half his arsenal. "Gotcha," I said.

"Well, that's hardly fair," He said. "Though I can't help but notice your lips are quite close to mine."

"Ugh. Gross,", I said. I fluttered up a little, lifting him off the ground and giving him nothing to kick off of. He tried flailing with his feet, ineffectively. "I think it's time for a trip downtown, where we can get you fitted for some more prison-approved footwear," I added as I ascended back toward the skylight.

"Y-you're going to fly me there?" He whimpered nervously, his pompous "Gentleman thief" persona's bravado evaporating. "Please… please don't. I-I'm scared of heights."

"Are you kidding me? You've been leaping tall buildings for days and you're just now telling me you're scared of heights? You expect me to believe that?"

"It's true! The fact is… I closed my eyes every time I jumped."

"Well, then, you should probably keep them closed for the rest of the flight. Just a warning… I fly a lot slower when I'm carrying someone, so this trip might take a while."

* * *

"Well, that was kind of anticlimactic," I commented as we all met for breakfast the next morning.

"You defused the situation with a minimum of physical violence and no property damage. Honestly, you couldn't ask for a better outcome," Phoebe remarked. Spread out before her was the Hillwood Gazette's article on the event, headlined: "JUMPSTER"S CAREER IN DUMPSTER: TEMPER FOILS WOULD-BE THEIF".

"Yeah, well, I was kind of expecting something a little more epic. I can't remember the last time I had a real challenge, like an alien biker or a pair of French superheroes…"

"I was kind of possessed by a demon butterfly at the time," Rhonda explained. "Long story and I don't even remember most of it."

"In any case, I can't even take credit for all of it. Nadine deserves some of the credit for that well-timed shrimp puff."

"I'm no hero," she demurred. "I just saw an opportunity and threw an hors d'oeuvre at it. To be honest, the real hero was Mr. Simmons. He kept the guy distracted until you got there. Frankly, without him, this all could have wound up a huge Jumpster fire."

*huge groan from all involved*

"You've been waiting forever to use that pun, haven't you," I accused.

"Guilty as charged," Nadine replied, hands up.

"You know, I've heard some people say that bad puns are grounds for a breakup," I joked.

"She's put up with a lot worse from me," replied Rhonda.

"It's true," Nadine added. "You could say we're both gluttons for _pun_ishment."

"You two deserve each other," I grumbled.

* * *

_Connecticut_

Clayton Wendell eyed the array of photos that his PI had sent him. He was not a man who rushed int things… he knew it would soon be time to get in contact with his granddaughter, but before that, he wanted to know everything he could about her.

What he had found was, frankly, disturbing. In many of the photos the PI had sent him, Rhonda was accompanied by a particular girl. Not only was this particular girl clearly of the more undesirable elements of society, but from the context, it seemed their relationship was more than friendly. Obviously, Barbara had not instilled proper moral values in her daughter if this was the result. Something would have to be done about that. And soon… his time was running out.

* * *

**A.N.: Ooh, ominous. Anyway, yes, the end to the Jumpst- er, Springheel Jack's arc is decidedly less than exciting, but then, he wasn't much of a villain. **

**Also, I really should finish that crossover sometime, shouldn't I…**

**Jose: Like I said, we're not exactly dealing with Moriarty here. Springheel Jack was just a dork who lucked into a magical artifact and got in over his head.**

**Veganmama: Thanks as long as you'r entertained I'm happy, even if I get too obscure sometimes.**

**JayDogg: Thanks for keeping up, hope you enjoyed the denouement of the Lila arc and everything that came after.**

**Next: Indecent Opposal**


	31. Indecent Proposal

Chapter 30

Indecent Proposal

_-RHONDA-_

The hazy heat of mid-August permeated the city streets. These were the waning days of summer vacation, as swimsuit sales had given way to back-to-school promotions. Thusly, I had been let go from Bikini Atoll yesterday, and there was little else to do with my time since most of my other friends were still working. It wasn't like I desperately needed the money or anything (though it was kind of nice to have money that I had earned and could spend at my own discretion instead of depending on Daddy), but it had been somewhere to go, and now I didn't have it.

More importantly, it had been a distraction from the uncertainty over my grandfather's efforts to contact my family. Knowing what he had done in the past, I couldn't help but look for sinister motives. The man had essentially driven his own son to suicide, after all, and gaslit his daughter – my mom – over it. I could hear Arnold's voice in my mind telling me that maybe he was making a sincere attempt to make amends, but then, Arnold always could be hopelessly naïve.

IN any case, now that my days were free, the germ of insecurity began to fester in my mind, no matter how much I reminded myself that Clayton Wendell had no power over me. My mother had been free and independent of his sphere of influence for decades, and I myself am not exactly defenseless. And yet, that germ of insecurity kept periodically forcing images of the things a rich, influential man could do to the people I cared about, and especially to she who I cared about most. I was so worried that I'd insisted Nadine allow Bridget's people to shadow her. She'd been resistant at first but I'd fnally managed to impress upon her that this was mainly for my own peace of mind.

It was in the third week of August when Clayton Wendell's people finally made contact with me. I was just arriving home when a limo pulled up beside me. The tinted rear window rolled down, revealing a man in a nondescript but well-tailored suit and glasses. "Ms. Lloyd?" the man asked.

This was pretty much what I'd been expecting for well over a week. Inwardly, I was excited over finally having an opportunity to get some answers, but there was no reason to let this guy know it. _Play it cool, _I reminded myself. _Don't let them know you have any idea what this is about. _"Maybe. Depends why you're asking. And you should know, I'm only sixteen… a man your age approaching a girl mine could be very easily misinterpreted. All I have to do is holler and you're looking at a potential prison sentence."

"Understood," the man said. "Rest assured I have no such intentions."

"That remains to be seen," I said.

"Hmm," he continued, not betraying any emotional response to my implied threat. "My name is Charles Garmen. I'm an attorney representing one Clayton Wendell."

_Feign ignorance. Don't give away anything. _"Should I know who that is?" I asked neutrally.

"Mr. Wendell is the country's most prominent individual in food packaging. He is an extremely wealthy and influential man. He is also your maternal grandfather."

"I was unaware my maternal grandfather was still alive."

"Well, he is, and he would very much like to meet with you."

I continued to project as little emotion as possible. "Well, seeing as I am still underage, I would suggest speaking to my parents."

"Mr. Wendell has already attempted to contact your parents. They have refused all approaches so far."

"Well, if they have, then they must have a reason for it. I believe our business here is finished." I started to walk on, hoping the attorney would take the bait.

He did.

"Look, here's my card," he said, offering it. "If you change your mind, come down to our offices in midtown."

I forced my eyebrow to stay stlll, because it really wanted to raise itself at this news. Was Clayton Wendell actually here in the city? Or was this some kind of over-the-phone deal?

"I'll think about it," I said brusquely, snatching the card as perfunctorily as I could manage and shoving it into my purse. Rest assured, I would be calling on Mr. Garmen's offices, but on my own terms, and not until I was good and prepared.

* * *

Helga let out a low whistle. "That is fucked-up. I mean… what the hell does someone say about something like that?"

"You can see why my mom wants nothing to do with him. To be quite honest, I would be perfectly happy if I never had to have anything to do with him either, but I don't think he's willing to cooperate on that front. He seems very insistent on making contact with me for whatever reason."

"So, why are you coming to me with all this?"

"Well… I already told Nadine, and, since I'm involved with her… technically, that makes you my best friend."

Helga blushed. "Um, well thanks, but even then, this kind of thing is pretty serious. I'm not sure even best friend status entitles me to know. And, honestly, I'm not sure how to handle knowing that sort of stuff about your family. My chosen coping mechanisms are sarcasm and hostility, and I don't think they'd be very appropriate here."

"Actually, thing is, if I go into a meeting with these guys, I don't wanna go in blind. And then I remembered, back from when I helped you make amends to Inga, that you have all that surveillance and recording equipment, and I was wondering if maybe we can rig me up with a wire so I can record everything that happens in that office…

Helga's eyes darted back and forth. "Yeah, funny story about that… I kinda don't… have that stuff any more?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Well, up until recently, I was in a pretty stable, mature relationship, so I didn't really see any need to keep all of that crap around. I sold it all to the AV Club. Used the money to buy a new laptop."

"Hmmph. It's nice you've had personal growth, but it's very inconvenient for me."

"Maybe you can try hitting Bridget up for some gear? You're already got her doing a security detail on Nadine, I'm sure she'd be up for helping you out here too."

"I don't know… she's already provided us with a lot, and she's never charged us for any of it… do you think maybe we're taking her for granted?"

"Hey, who are we to turn down her generosity? Besides, don't we always help her out whenever she needs it?"

"True…"

"So, don't worry about it. You already explained this whole thing to her when you had her shadow Nadine, right? If she was on board with that, she'll be on board with this too."

* * *

As it turned out, not only was Bridget willing to go along with it, she was willing to take it a step further.

"Not that I'm ungrateful, but… couldn't you get in a lot of trouble for this?"

"For what?" Bridget asked, glancing aside at me through her glasses. She'd exchanged her skin-tight blue catsuit for a conservative charcoal pantsuit and tied back her long chestnut hair in a sensible bun.

"I'm pretty sure there's a law against impersonating a lawyer," I responded, as we approached the midtown highrise in which Mr. Gamen's law offices were located.

"Yes, there is. Lucky for you I passed the bar exam two weeks ago."

"You're a real lawyer?"

"Took classes during my downtime. Gotta have something to fall back on in case the crimefighting gig goes south, right?"

The law offices of Garmen, Schultz and Alger were located on the 43rd floor of the building. It was a small, utilitarian space, with very little in the way of decoration or amenities. Probably a satellite office. Mr. Garmen was waiting in the main (and only) meeting room, having previously agreed to meet with us at this time. He was the only other person present. There was no sign of the mysterious Mr. Wendell himself.

"Ms. Lloyd," he acknowledged. "And who is this?"

"I took the liberty of having Ms. Leigh, my family's legal counsel, present during our meeting," I replied. "I'm certain that won't be a problem?"

"Not at all," he responded evenly. I had a feeling he wasn't expecting a teen like me to be this savvy. Good. The more he underestimates me, the better.

"Will Mr. Wendell be joining us?" I asked. "I was under the impression that I would be meeting with him today."

"I'm afraid Mr. Wendell Is unable to join us in person," he replied. Curious… "He will be conversing with us via video chat." He opened the laptop that was sitting on the conference table. The computer exited sleep mode revealing a chat window that, for now, only showed the app's logo. While I betrayed no emotion, my mind was racing, If he was so desperate to meet with me, why not doing it in person? One reason immediately came to mind. Moments later, it was confirmed when Mr. Wendell himself appeared on the screen.

I'm not sure what I had been expecting. The one photo I had found of him had been taken in his prime, so naturally he would be older. What I didn't expect was for him to look _this_ old. The Clayton Wendell on the screen was far from the robust middle-aged man in the file photo. He was gaunt, pale, his hair chalk-white and thinning. Though anything below his neck was out of view, I took particular note of a tiny tube that ran into his nose, suggesting that even breathing was not something he took for granted. It was very likely he had a whole oxygen-tank setup just offcamera. The reasons for his not showing up in person were now glaringly obvious.

"Ah," he said, smiling weakly. "You must be my granddaughter, Rhonda. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I only wish it could be in person, but… perhaps that can be arranged."

I had to say, the doting grandfather act was quite jarring, knowing what I did. Jarring, and galling. To think that he could put on this pleasant facade after all he had done was, to but it mildly, infuriating. And yet, his infirm condition was blindingly obvious. Perhaps his condition had given him cause to reconsider, even repent, his actions. Perhaps that crushing guilt had even contributed to his deterioration, and this outreach was a last, desperate attempt at redemption before the Reaper came for him. One last grasp for escape from the fires of Hades. How did I feel about that? One voice, sounding suspiciously like Arnold's, argued that every human being is capable of redeeming themselves if they make an effort; the other, sounding suspiciously like Helga's, contended that no amount of contrition could ever make up for the things he'd done. The proverbial shoulder angel and devil, if you would. And right now, both were making very convincing arguments.

I considered my response carefully. To seem cold at first would give away that I wasn't coming into this meeting without preconceived notions, but also didn't want to act too eager. "I have to admit, I was unaware until recently that you were even alive," I finally responded.

"Yes, well, I made the mistake of allowing my family to slip away from me. But recent developments have made me realize that family is the most important thing of all."

"Recent developments?" I reiterated, guessing what he was alluding to but hoping he'd expand further.

"No need to sugarcoat it, I think. The fact is, I'm dying." There it was. He was not long for the world and wanted to square things before slipping the mortal coil for good. "And I need an heir. Your mother, yourself, and your sister are my only living relatives. Your mother has made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me, and your sister is far too young. Therefore, I would like to pass on my estate to you."

"Me?" I repeated. "I'm only sixteen."

"I'm certain Mr. Garmen can work out the details with your family attorney, but, yes, I am writing up my will and am planning to name you as my sole heir."

My eyebrows went up, without my being able to stop them this time. Of all the things I expected, becoming heir to a frozen food empire was the absolute last. "Are you serious?"

"There really is nobody else at this point. Of course, there are some things we must discuss before that point."

"Such as…"

"Well, if one is to be heir to the Wendell empire, it is imperative that one must comport herself as befitting the heir to the Wendell empire. Certain… standards must be upheld."

And there it was, the sinking feeling in the pit of all three of my stomachs. "What standards are we talking about here?" I asked.

"Specifically, I am referring to the company you keep. In particular, your relationship with a certain young woman." Yep. There it was. For all his talk about regrets and reconciliation, Clayton Wendell had not changed one bit.

"I'm not certain what you're talking about."

"Come now, Rhonda, dear, playing dumb is beneath you. You know very well to whom I am referring. Namely, one Nadine Robinson. Now, I can understand the temptation to… slum it, as it were, but surely you must understand that associating with her type is beneath you?"

My teeth began to clench. I had been patient, but that patience had eroded. "What exactly do you mean by 'her type?' Because Nadine Is beautiful, brilliant, talented, and kind. She's the best person I know, so I really want to know what you're saying."

"You know very well what I mean. The relationship between the two of you is fundamentally wrong, and not simply because you are both women."

"You mean we shouldn't be together because she's black. That's what you mean. You're using weasel words like 'her kind' and 'standards', but that's what you mean."

"I understand your mother has been… overly permissive. But once we find a suitable match for you so you can produce a proper heir, you can put all that behind you and-"

Enough was enough. "Let me stop you right there. By 'suitable' you mean, some upper-class rich twit that can take care of everything while I push out some pure white babies for you, is that what you mean?"

"N-Now see here-" he stammered.

"Oh, I see just fine." My eyes narrowed. "But, you know, you're right. It is my duty as your heir, after all. Perhaps I'd call my first son... oh, what's a good name… _Rhys_?"

His face was already as pale as a ghost, but my namedrop somehow made it blanch even further. "H-how do you know that name?"

"Mom told me _everything_," I responded, allowing myself the luxury of a smug expression. I had earned it.

"She couldn't have possibly-" he stammered. "You don't understand… the pressures of-"

"I understand everything I need to. That you're a bigot, and a control freak. You want everything to be exactly the way you think it should be, and when things aren't perfect you try to force them to be. And when things don't fit into your mold, when forcing things into your mold breaks them, you try to bury the evidence. But the truth doesn't stay buried. No matter how much you want it to." I turned to his attorney. "Thank you, Mr. Garmen, but I think my attorney and I are done here. Have a nice day."

"You don't know what you're doing, you stupid child!" sputtered Wendell. "Think about your future!"

"I am," I replied. "I want Nadine to be part of it. And I don't want you anywhere near it."

"You're making a huge mistake, girl," he replied, all paternal pretense gone. "I'm a very powerful man. I can make things very difficult for you."

"Excuse me," Bridget interrupted, "but that sounded a lot like a threat. Was that your intention? Because I really don't think you want to be making any threats. Threats have a way of leaking."

"So do secrets," I added. "If anything happens to me, or anyone I care about, I've arranged for a certain neutral party to release certain information. Specifically, the fate of one Rhys Owen Wendell."

"I-impossible. There's absolutely no proof of anything-"

"It's the information age, Mr. Wendell," added Bridget, backing my bluff. I didn't really have anything on him other than my mother's word, but he didn't know that. "Secrets have a way of being revealed these days, no matter how carefully you try to hide them. So, if I was you, I'd drop that particular line of thought immediately."

* * *

The two of us strode out of the attorney's office and I let out the breath I'd been unaware I'd been holding. "Ohhh, my god, I can't believe all that just happened…"

Bridget smiled. "You were pretty amazing in there, actually. I barely had to do anything."

"Yeah, I scored a victory over a sick old man," I replied. "Should I really feel good about myself after that?"

"Rhonda, even knowing what that man has done in his lifetime… and given how he just tried to manipulate you, he clearly feels no real remorse over it… you still feel compassion for him."

I heaved a deep sigh. "I know he doesn't deserve that. I know that he shouldn't get to go to his grave with a clear conscience. And yet… I can't help but feel like I'm still _wrong_ somehow."

"Face it… you're just a better person than he is. That's all there really is to it."

"If you say so." I replied. "In any case, thanks for everything."

"No problem," she said, smiling. "You kind of remind me of a young me. Full of insecurities, conflicted about your upbringing, crazy into blonde chicks… no, that last one's still true…"

I chuckled. "I still feel like I should owe you something for all the tech you've invested in us."

"Actually, you're the ones who've been providing us a service. Besides the occasional mission, you've been field-testing our tech for us. It's been really helpful so far. But I appreciate the sentiment. Now go. Go home and hug your blonde. You've earned it."

* * *

"Awww," Nadine cooed as she snuggled up to me on the couch. "You gave up a fortune for me." The opening credits of _Jun's In n' Out_, our current binge show, were running. Several cartons of food from Jade Garden awaited devouring. After the stress of today, a casual night in, some Webflix, takeout, and chill, was just what the doctor ordered.

"Well, let's be realistic. I probably wasn't going to have any actual control over the money for years, and it's mostly tied up in the company, and, let's face it, even without his money I'm still probably looking at a cushy future, but… yeah. I gave up a fortune for you."

"You could have just lied to him and waited 'til he died, though."

"Oh, crap, you're right, I could have! Ah well, I'd still have to live a lie for however long it takes. It's not worth it. I'd rather be true to myself, to us, than have to be someone else for any length of time."

"So, what happens now?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but 've learned enough from Daddy to guess. After he buys it, control of the company'll probably pass to the shareholders. They'll likely sell out to some big food conglomerate and pocket the cash, and that'll be it for the Wendell legacy."

"You sound so casual about it. This is still your grandfather dying."

"I know I should feel something, but… he was not part of my life. And when he tried to make himself part of my life, he wanted it to be on his terms, which I could not accept. No… if anything, I feel bad that…"

"…you _don't_ feel bad?"

"Exactly. Does that make sense?"

"There's nothing wrong with wishing things could be better. Nothing at all. It's how things _get_ better. That and the hard work needed to make it a reality, of course. But it starts with wishing."

"You are aware of how corny that sounds, right?"

"Painfully, yes."

"Reason #357 why I love you. I should probably write all these down someday."

"Shh, show's about to start. Pass the snow peas."

* * *

**A.N.: D'awww…**

**Anyway, Bridget was just going to impersonate Rhonda's lawyer but I thought it would be funnier if she actually was one. I mean, she's probably got all sorts of hidden talents, so why not?**

**Veganmama: Yes. Yes he is.**

**Jose: He really dd just get lucky.**

**JayDogg: Mr. Wendell's only metaphorically a bum.**

**See ya next time!**


	32. Lila's Birthday

Chapter 31

Lila's Birthday

_-LILA-_

We were approaching the final days of August, and my seventeenth birthday was rapidly approaching. Since it happened to fall during the weekend of Hillwood's Humdinga music festival, and given that my interest in music had become public knowledge since my makeover, the gang had elected to forgo the traditional party and instead make a day out of the festival instead. All the hottest artists would be playing… Raid on Bungeling Bay, Shriek, Madame Gonzo, Calcium, Emica, Luna and the Moths, Bruise… rumor had it even Ronnie Matthews would make a surprise appearance to reignite his comeback. And, while I really didn't need the fuss, to be perfectly honest, I couldn't imagine a better way to enjoy the day if I planned it myself.

By the way, if you're wondering how Daddy took my new look, there isn't much to tell, really. Of course he overreacted at first, turning into a blubbering mess about how his little girl is growing up and changing before his very eyes, how time is slipping away and he'd be saying goodbye before he knew it. I could understand, believe me. Losing Mommy hit us both hard, not to mention losing the farm and having to move on top of that. I was pretty much all he had until meeting Suzie, and he had become deeply attached to holding on to me as I was in those days. It was probably why I had been so attached to that particular look and matter of acting until long after playing the role of Little Miss Perfect had started to grate on me, even after going through all I had in sixth grade. Eventually, though, he realized I was doing this to express myself (with a little goading from Suzie) and had given his approval. A tat was still out though. Not until NEXT birthday.

Saturday, the day of my birthday, came, and the whole gang gathered at the spot Gerald and Harold had staked out at the fair grounds. Two months ago, this same site had been the location of the Renaissance Fair (where strange supernatural phenomena had occurred). Now, multiple bandstands and concessions had been set up to cater to the tens of thousands of visitors who would be converging from across the area. Blankets had been spread over the claimed area, and multiple picnic baskets had been laid out. The decision had been made that we would bring our own food rather than rely on the festival's overpriced edibles. One glance over at the menu on one of the stands drove home just how smart a decision that had been. Ten bucks for a chili dog? Not happening.

I was one of the first to arrive, but the three of us weren't alone for long. Soon, Helga and Brainy showed up, then Sid and Stinky, followed by Sheena and Thad, Eugene, and Lorenzo, then Phoebe, Rhonda, Nadine, Rani and Patty as a group. I couldn't help but notice the last group was carrying a distinctly guitar-shaped box. _Sigh_. It figured. Rhonda went and got me that guitar. "You didn't," I groaned. "I told you not to, but you went and did it anyway."

"Did what?" asked Rhonda innocently.

"Ugggh, let's just get this over with," I grudgingly conceded, opening the guitar-shaped box, only to discover its actual contents… a guitar-shaped birthday cake.

"Oh…" I stammered.

"What?" Rhonda asked again. "Can't have a birthday without a cake."

"Well, you know, I saw the shape of the box and I just thought… oh, never mind…" I plopped down on the blanket. "Wow, you did an amazing job on this…"

"Thanks," Patty replied. "The strings are licorice, the saddle, frets and pick guard are carved from chocolate, the control knobs are gumdrops…" she lightly slapped away Harold's hand as he reached for the aforementioned, "the body is coated with fondant… much as I think it's overrated, you can't beat it for holding a shape… and the interior is black forest with vanilla crème, which I believe is your favorite…"

"I'm certain it's oh-too de- I mean, I'm sure it's gonna be amazing," I replied, momentarily regressing to old habits. "It almost looks too beautiful to eat."

'No such thing," interjected Harold.

"Well," Patty said replied, bashfully rubbing the back of her head, "I figured that since this is probably the last time I'm gonna be seeing all of you guys before I go to California, I might as well go all out."

"Oh, shit, that's right, you're leaving this week!" realized Rhonda. "We've all been so caught up planning this that I never got to setting up a going-away party for you!"

"It's fine, really. I don't want anyone making a big deal over it. It's not like I'll never be back."

"Think about it, though…" I continued, "the group is kind of start to break up, isn't it. WE've already said goodbye to Arnold for a whole year, Patty's leaving, Harold's getting his GED instead of coming back to school…"

"Actually," Eugene added. "I wasn't sure how to tell you guys, but I won't be back at South Hillwood this year either. I'm transferring to the Hillwood Academy for the Arts this semester. Mr. Leichleiter recommended me after I was in his summer stock production of Guys and Dolls. Sorry I didn't bring it up earlier…"

"Why are you sorry?" I asked. "This is a tremendous opportunity for you. Go for it."

"I just feel like I'm just one more person abandoning you guys, is all."

"Trust me, we'll get along just fine if you chase your dreams," Helga insisted. "You _grab_ that shooting star. And try not to hurt anything."

"Y'know it's kinda rare seeing you alone, Stinky." Gerald said. "Gloria letting you off your leash?"

"'Fraid I'm stag today, fellers. Gloria had herself a family emergency, so I'm attendin' today's hootenanny all by my lonesome."

"Oh, that's… just an awful shame," Rani replied unconvincingly, her eyes darting back and forth. She and Stinky had dated in the past before Gloria had come back into the picture this past spring. I knew for a fact that, as much as she claimed to have moved on and how many random guys she dated, she still held a torch for the country boy. I suppose, in another life, I could see myself in that position, though Stinky and I had never been a couple.

"Yeah, I reckon I feel mighty bad for her, having so many family emergencies. Why, this must be the third one this past fortnight."

"…uh-huh," Gerald replied, rolling his eyes. He knew, as did most of us, that the "family emergency" was more likely a dalliance with some better-looking, more popular, and probably older male, but Stinky was completely oblivious to Gloria's less-than-faithful nature, no matter how much his friends tried to convince him otherwise. Stinky was old-school chivalrous in pretty much every way, even the stupid ones.

"So, is this everyone?" Sheena asked.

"Almost," Rhonda replied. "I hope no one minds, but I invited Wolfgang."

"Seriously?" Gerald asked.

"Are you crazy?" Sid added. "That guy tortured us for years!"

"I'm afraid I agree." Eugene commented. "He shoved me into a trash can on multiple occasions. And lockers. And pretty much everywhere you can shove someone."

"I know, but that was years ago. He's a pretty decent guy if you give him a chance."

A skeptical look passed among the gathered. Rhonda may have vouched for him, but there was history here. If there was anything close to an arch-nemesis for the gang, he'd been it.

"Okay, I may have overstepped my bounds here," conceded Rhonda. "I just thought maybe it was time we got over old wounds, but clearly this was a mistake."

"Yeah, no kidding," Thad replied. "Sorry, but even I thnk this was a crazy idea."

"Hold on," I said. "As the birthday girl, I believe I have the final say, and I say that it's all right if Wolfgang comes to my party."

"Lila, are you nuts? This is Wolfgang! _Wolfgang_!" Harold emphasized.

"No, Rhonda's right. We're almost adults now, Isn't it about time we got over these petty schoolyard rivalries?"

Everyone glanced over at Helga. In Arnold's absence, she had become the de facto leader of the group, whether by virtue of her relationship with the departed Mr. Shortman, or simply her forceful personality, and people generally tended to seek out her opinion when there was dissent in the ranks.

"She's the birthday girl," Helga opined. "Her wishes, her rules."

"Well… all right," Gerald replied. "But I don't have to like it." The others mumbled their agreement.

"Thanks for backing me up," Rhonda whispered. "I probably should've brought it up with you first, but I kinda thought everyone was over him."

"To be honest, Wolfgang's never really bothered me," I replied. "I get that the rest of you have had trouble with him in the past, but I've never really had any sort of run-in with him."

"Maybe he thought you were cute or something," Helga remarked, I assume jokingly.

"Oh, that's ridiculous…"

"Not really," Rhonda interjected. "Pretty much everyone thought you were cute. Still do, actually."

"It's true," added Helga.

Ignore them. They're just buttering up the birthday girl.

* * *

Wolfgang arrived a few minutes later to mostly suspicious stares.

"Hey guys," he began. "I know I was kinda mean to you in the past, and I understand if you don't want me here, but I brought a peace offering." Out of a brown paper bag, he fished a smaller, cellphane one filled with a rainbow of tiny gummi bears.

"Free candy?" Harold exclaimed. "All is forgiven, now fork it over!"

"Not just any candy," Wolfgang insinuated.

"You mean there's MORE?" Harold remarked, eyes widening.

"I got these from Big Gino," replied Wolfgang. "You know how he used to deal in candy? Well, now he deals in '_candy'_, if you get what I mean."

Phoebe raised an eyebrow. "Am I to infer that these gummis are infused with an added ingredient of the herbal persuasion?"

"No, but they do have pot in them," Wolfgang responded."

"Wolfgang!" scolded Rhonda. "You're on probation!"

"Yeah, I know, but I figured if I was gonna win these guys over, I'd have to do something big. Besides, it's a music festival. 90% of this crowd's probably toasted."

"That's not the point. I've been sticking my neck out for you and you violated my trust."

"Dude, don't be a narc," Sid interjected, reaching for the bag.

"Yeah, I reckon if Wolfgang wants to make amends, who're we to look a gift bag of gummis in the mouth?"

"I'll be generous and consider that a clever reference to the fact that gelatin is made from horses." Rhonda looked around for support. "Seriously, is that all it takes?"

"You did want them to accept him, Princess," Helga dryly remarked.

"Yeah, but not because he's violating hi- Thad, you too?"

"I've always been kinda curious what I've been missing."

"Yeah, but… Rani? Don't you know those aren't veg- Lorenzo? What would your mother say- PHOEBE!"

"Call it an experiment. I want to see if these work on us. Besides," She glanced aside, a passive-aggressive note creeping into her voice, "Gerald seems to think that I need to lighten up anyway."

"I didn't mean weed candy, I meant take a night off or two from studying! You don't know how much I had to beg to get her out here today. Girl's gonna burn herself out."

"To late. I came to party, and that's what I'm gonna do." By now it was clear that Rhonda had lost the battle; with the exception of her, myself, Helga, Gerald, and Sheena (she, at least, stayed true to her vegan principles), everyone had chosen to partake of the proverbial apple (and raspberry, and orange, and pineapple, and lemon, and strawberry, and I don't know what the turquoise ones were, but I had to admit I was awful curious).

Oh, what the hell, they probably don't last long, and for all I know, I'm immune to them anyway. What could it hurt? I snagged one of the turquoise ones and popped it in my mouth."

"Hmm… some sort of tropical punch…" I muttered to myself.

"Et tu, Lila?" Rhonda sighed. "I thought you, of all people…"

I shrugged. "I just wanted to know what flavor this one was. And what it felt like to give into peer pressure."

"Just let it go, Princess," advised Helga. "Even your girlfriend jumped on the bandwagon."

"Wha- NADINE! …oh, who am I kidding, I can't be mad at you…"

"So, uh… how long does it take to kick in?" asked Rani.

"Yeah, I figured I'd at least feel something by now," Sid added. "It usually doesn't take this long."

"Hmm," Phoebe mused. "I was assuming that I was resistant because of my physiology, but if nobody else is feeling anything…" The rest of the crew nodded. "Then I wonder if someone may have gotten ripped off here."

"Um… I think I might have your answer here," Helga remarked, peeling Big Gino's label off the packaging, revealing a Krodi's logo. "These here are plain-ol' non-spiked gummis, purchased at the corner supermarket and relabeled for gullible indivduals."

Wolfgang facepalmed. "You mean I paid Big Gino a hundred bucks for a three-dollar bag of gummi bears? Gahh… if that little shrimp didn't surround himself with the wrestling team, I'd kick his ass!"

"Yeah, like it's the first time Gino ripped anyone off." Helga commented. "You deal with tat guy, you'd better count your fingers afterward."

"Let's just all be happy that Wolfgang _didn't_ violate his probation, all right?" Rhonda asked. "Seriously, I put myself on the line for him and I don't want to see him busted."

* * *

The disappointment over not getting to experience being high was as short-lived as the high would have been. Band after band played, everything from classic rock to black metal to hip-hop to country to electronica. Wanna know a secret? I love it all. Funk. Opera. Gangsta rap. Can't get enough music. Why limit yourself to just one kind?

All in all, you couldn't ask for a better day. The Pacific Northwest weather was actually cooperating for once, the food was plentiful as was the music, and the company had been pleasant. Even Wolfgang had begun to integrate into the group. Occasionally, someone would break off; Helga had at one point run off to get Jealousy Jenkins (of Raid on Bungeling Bay fame)'s autograph, and Rani had left to find the bathroom, Stinky insisting on escorting her. If anyone noticed that they looked a bit disheveled when they got back, or that Stinky had a badly-wiped mark on his face the same color as Rani's lipstick, nobody cared to comment on it; if Gloria could play, than so could Stinky.

Things took a surprising turn when two women drifted close. One had long blond hair with a single lock dyed royal blue, the other a brown pixie cut and freckles.

"You sure, Blue Note?" Pixie was asking her companion. "We go on in fifteen minutes!"

"'Fraid so, Lunes," Blue Streak replied, rubbing her wrist. "I tried resting it, I tried that salve your little sister sent… I thought I'd be 100% by now, but it still hasn't healed. There is no way I can play with this sprained wrist."

"Bummer, babe," Pixie replied. "Well, it's a shame we'll have to cancel our set, but the important thing is that you get better."

"Still, I hate to let the band down like this. If you could find a replacement…"

"You can't always get what you want. It's not like we could find a replacement on fifteen minutes' notice…"

"Uh… excuse me!" Rhonda interrupted, flagging them down. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. If you're looking for a guitar player, our friend Lila would fit the bill very nicely."

"Is that true?" Pixie, who I had just recognized and was in the early stages of possible freak-out, asked.

"Y-you're Luna Loud," I stammered.

"Pleased t'meetcha, glad you guessed my name," she replied genially. "So… can you really play guitar?"

"Um… well, not professionally… I don't even own a guitar, actually… but yes, I can play."

"Cool… you gonna be all right on stage?"

"Sure, no problem, I've performed before… not music, but I was in a professional stage production or two. An audience won't be a problem."

"Looks like if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need," Blue Streak, who Inow recognized as the band's rhythm guitarist, Sam Sharpe, commented, giving Luna a playful love punch with her good fist.

"All right, Lila… wow, can't believe Mom and Dad never got around to using that one… we'll be ready for you on Bandstand 3 in ten minutes."

The sheer coincidentality of this series of events should probably have been some kind of red flag, but at the moment I was completely overwhelmed by the excitement. In mere minutes, I would be up onstage, performing with a real band, at one of the biggest musical events on the West Coast, in front of an audience of thousands. On my birthday. What were the odds?

* * *

I was ushered up onstage by a beefy roadie with a Cockney accent, and an electric guitar was thrust into my hands. As my right hand cradled the neck and my left settled into position on the strings, I was on top of the world.

"We're gonna start with 'Play it Loud'" Luna advised. "Just follow the band's lead, and, oh… happy birthday."

"W-wha?" I looked down, for the first time, at the instrument that had been thrust upon me and immediately realized why it felt so natural in my hands.

Cheryl.

"This whole thing was a set-up, wasn't it," I whispered.

"You've got some real good friends," Sam said, giving me a thumbs-up with her "bad" hand.

The set lasted about forty-five minutes. We played a number of the Moths' orignals, as well as some covers… Mick Swagger's "Contentment", Duke Thinwhite's "Alterations", and Empress's "Get Out of our Way". I could safely say that, at this moment, in this place, this was the greatest feeling of my life. Certainly a better high than any cannabis-spiked piece of candy could have provided."

"Thank you, Hillwood!" Luna shouted to the crowd as we (we!) finished our last number. "Just a quick shout-out to Lila Sawyer here, who filled in for Sam on rhythm guitar today. If I have to say so myself, she totally shook our foundations. So let's all make some noise for the girl of the hour!"

The high that I didn't think could get any bigger ballooned as thousands chanted my name. Is this what it felt like all the time?"

"Thank you," I said. "I just hope it isn't downhill from here…"

"Not if you keep chasing your dream. You lose your dream, you lose your mind." Luna said, a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Life don't have to be unkind."

* * *

The gang practically carried me back to our encampment, plus Cheryl, who was of course mine to keep. Despite my barely contained joy, I still had a bit of a bone to pick.

"I thought I told you not to _buy_ me the guitar, Rhonda," I scolded. "Not 'Buy me the guitar _and _concoct an elaborate ruse with an up-and-coming rock star to present it to me on stage and give me the opportunity to perform in front of a cheering crowd. How much did this _cost_ you?"

"I'm innocent this time, honest," Rhonda pleaded, hands in surrender pose. "Yeah, it was my idea to get you the guitar, but the whole gang chipped in to pay for it. We were going to just give you the guitar outright, but then…

Helga then picked up the story, filling in what happened next…

* * *

_Two Weeks ago_

_Upper Hillwood Community Center_

_-HELGA-_

"_Okay, I guess this is where I tell you to… keep breathing?" I sorta sat there awkwardly while Olga lay there on the gym matt, head propped up, huffing rhythmically._

"_Sorry to ruin your day, baby sis, but Taylor had a last minute meeting, something about a big investor, and he had to drop out of our Lamaze session. I would've just cancelled but my due date is getting pretty close and I need the practice."_

"_Beats doing nothing," I replied. "I just wish I was better at this."_

"_You're doing fine, sis. I'm pretty sure I'll be doing most of the work, anyway."_

"_Yeah, I'm feeling kinda superfluous. Mind if I check my texts?"_

"_Not at all, I think I've got this."_

_I took out my phone. One new message. "Don't forget to chip in for Lila's guitar…"_

"_What about Lila?" Olga asked. I must've mumbled something out loud or something. I kinda forget she and Lila have some kind of surrogate sister relationship sometimes… "I don't think I've seen her since the wedding." Lila was, natch, a bridesmaid at the wedding along with this Deb chick Olga met while working for Bridget and a couple of old college friends. I, of course, was Maid of Honor, my second time in the role, repetitively. "It's been hard to stay in touch with everything going on."_

"_Oh, it's no big deal. She's turning 17 in a couple of weeks so we're all chipping I to get her a guitar she's had her eye on. We're going to surprise her with it at Humdinga, since her birthday falls out on the Saturday in the middle of the festival."_

"_You know, my friend Lori – you know, she used to be with me in Bridget's group, now she's a pro golfer – anyway, her sister is playing the festival. I was going to go, but in my condition…" She suddenly snapped her fingers. "Well, if I can't be there, the least I can do is make my Litte Sis's birthday memorable. When we get out of here, I'm gonna make some calls."_

"_Olga.. just what are you planning?"_

"_You'll see…"_

* * *

_-LILA-_

"So, yeah, when I _said_ I was going to get Jealousy Jenkins' autograph, what I was _really_ doing was meeting with Luna and Sam to nail down the final arrangements," Helga concluded. "So, anyway, yeah, this is all Olga's doing."

"Gosh," I said, "I wish she could've been here so I could thank her…"

"Don't worry about that," Helga replied. "All she wanted was to get to see the show in some way. Brainy set up Rhonda's phone so she was able to livestream the whole thing.. Plus you'll probably be all over the Internet tomorrow anyway."

"… I really don't know what to say. I know Olga basically set everything in motion, but really, it took all of you to pull it all together. I couldn't ask for a better group of friends."

"Jeez, you don't have to get all gushy about it. It-" Her usual attempt to downplay her kindness (I honestly don't know why she's still so defensive about being seen as nice, it's not like any of us still thinks she's mean anymore) was interrupted by her phone going off. "Hello? Oh, I was wondering when you'd call, Football-Head. Yeah, she's here right now. You know, she finally got her own phone, you could have just called her directly…" Sudden blush. "Yeah, well, free country, I guess. Hey, Lila, phone call," she said, handing it over.

"Hello?"

"_Hey, Lila…_" Arnold said on the other end. "_Helga told me what they were planning for you, so… how was it?_"

"To be perfectly honest… it was quite literally the most amazing moment of my llfe."

"_Yeah, I could tell. I got to watch the whole thing on Rhonda's livestream. I'm just sorry I couldn't be there in person_."

"I know… school won't be the same without you… or Patty… or Harold… or Eugene… and this is Phoebe's last year, probably… Heh, listen to me. This is supposed to be a happy day, I can't bring myself down like this."

"Well, I should be back for the holidays, at least. We'll see everyone then, all right? It'll be fine."

We exchanged a few last pleasantries before he hung up. The awkwardness that was once there was long gone. Frankly, it hadn't even crossed my mind that we were both single now and he hadn't made any sort of move.

* * *

Eventually, the day drifted to a close. Daddy was coming by to pick me up, and the time had come to say farewell and pack my things. I picked up my guitar, back in its case, and was trying to figure out the most comfortable way to pick up the amp when Wolfgang, of all people came to my rescue.

"Why don't I help you with that?" he offered.

I was about to protest – I could have carried both, even with my nerfed human-mode strength, but it would be awkward, so who was I to turn down an offer of help? "Thanks," I said.

"No prob," he said. "The guys told me it was you who gave the okay for me t come to this thing."

"Oh, right," I said. "Well, I figured you deserved a fresh start with everyone. Besides, you've never really bothered me…"

"Well, yeah," he said. "That's 'cause I thought you were kinda cute."

"Y-you did?" I asked, blushing.

"Well, actually, that's not entirely true…"

"Oh," I said. He must've been kidding.

"Yeah… I _still_ think you're kinda cute," he said, hefting the amp and walking ahead as I could only stand there and try to process it.

* * *

**A. N.: I know I've done some unorthodox pairings, but… this one surprised even me. I knew I wanted to start integrating Wolfgang more into the group, but I was looking for a way to do it organically, and then this chapter came along, and one thing just sort of grew into another, and suddenly, I'm thinking… why not put Lila and Wolfgang together? He's trying to overcome his bad boy past and become a better person, she's trying to get over her perfection complex and express her inner self… they could be great for each other. So… what do you guys think? Am I crazy, or could there be something here? Let me know!**

**Luna Loud and Sam Sharpe (and Chunk) are © Nickelodeon and Viacom. I established in the original "Body Issues" that Olga knows Lori, so this doesn't come completely out of nowhere.**

**Jose: Yes, I'm sure Bridget's people are on top of that as we speak.**

**Veganmama: People always underestimate Rhonda's intelligence. Being a fashion nut doesn't necessarily make one dumb.**

**Next: Back to School**


	33. The Worst Day of School

Chapter 32

The Worst Day of School

_-HELGA-_

And, as inevitable as the tides and the phases of the moon, our summer freedom drew to a close. T'was the Monday after Labor Day, a day that had taken on a whole new meaning for my family in particular, as it marked the birth of one Christopher James Burke, AKA Olga's son, AKA my nephew. Leave it to my sister to choose a perfectly appropriate birth date.

Mom is now in full Grandma mode and has practically moved into Olga's house to help her ease into motherhood. Yes, I know, Miriam wasn't exactly a paragon of motherhood… at least not for me. I can only begin to guess, but I'm sure the story was a lot different when Olga was growing up. It is what it is, though. Whatever lingering resentment I had over my parents' favoritism had long since fadedto the occasional slight tinge. However, right now, I was on my own for the first day of incarceration (i. e., school).

Well, not entirely. Olga had read in some parenting book or other that pets could get difficult when a new baby was brought home, so at the moment, I had custody of Brynner. Thankfully, the cat was pretty low-maintenance. Keep him fed and watered and clean his litter box and he was pretty much set. Which was fine with me. The way the thing tended to just sit and stare at you sometimes really creeped me out. Or how he would hop up on counters and knock things over just to knock them over. The worst was his habit of waking me up at 6AM by climbing up on my face. He was lucky as hell that it takes me a while to come fully to my senses because surprised mutant could very well lead to incinerated cat if he wasn't careful.

Unfortunately, the one day I was counting on him to wake me up – today – he decides to shirk his duties. I slept through my alarm and woke up with about fifteen minutes to spare before I had to meet Phoebe and Gerald. I hurriedly shifted back to human, threw on my usual uniform of jeans, hoodie and sneakers, tied my hair back with my signature pink ribbon, and rushed to the kitchen to stuff handfuls of cereal directly out of the box into my face since that was pretty much all I had time for.

Brynner was perched on the counter, giving me a "why haven't you fed me yet" look.

"Don't you look at me like that. It's not my fault you picked this day to not jump on my face. You had one job, cat. One job."

"Meow," he replied, which I translated as "I don't care about your issues, weird human. Feed me. I know where your underwear is and I _will_ shred it if you don't comply."

"I hate Mondays," I muttered, pouring him a bowl of the dry food Olga sent and a fresh bowl of water. Brynner stared at it distastefully as he always did, before grudgingly digging in, as if he was doing me a favor. "Hey, I didn't pick the stuff out. This s supposed to be specifically formulated for perfect kitty nutrition. That cat in the commercial was doing a whole cheerleader routine about how good the stuff is, and if it was good enough for a talking cartoon cat, it's good enough for you. Oh my god, I am a woman yelling at a cat. I've become a meme again, and it's not even a current one. This is what you've done to me."

* * *

Before the situation degenerated any further, I grabbed my backpack and sprinted for the bus stop. Phoebe and Gerald looked like they were just about to give up when I got there.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Gerald chided.

"Hey, it takes time to look _this_ good." I replied.

"…so, like, two minutes," he joked.

"My furry alarm clock didn't work. Don't ask."

"So… you ready for the _worst_ day of school?"

"No. Not biting, Gerald. You and Arnold did this whole stupid bit every year for the last eleven years and it's never once been funny."

"C'mon… it's tradition, and since he's not here…"

"Nope. Not happening."

"Don't you mean the _first_ day of school?" Phoebe supplied helpfully.

"Oh, Phoebe, no, you're just _enabling_ him…"

"That's what I said, the worst day of school!" Gerald responded, ignoring me.

"*sigh* I'm surrounded," I groaned. "You're _better_ than this, Pheebs."

"He's my boyfriend, Helga, I can't leave him hanging like that."

"I can't help it if some people see the value of tradition," Gerald stated.

"Continuity can be rather… comforting," Phoebe added.

Yeah, yeah, I get it… Gerald misses him as much as I do, and as much as I see trying to keep up the routine as a hollow mockery that only emphasizes Arnold's absence, Gerald values it as something of a comfort. Don't need a Dr. Bliss session to see that. I guess I could cut him some slack… _some_. No a lot. If I get _too_ nice, he'll hate it. "So, small hair boy, shall we compare schedules?"

Gerald unconsciously rubbed his hair – after losing out bet in sixth grade and having to shave his head, he never really had the heart to regrow his hair tower… not that it was a big loss; I don't have to be a style expert to know that the Kid n' Play look hadn't been in since the 90s – and replied "Uh-uh, you know the rule, we wait 'til everyone meets up at school."

"Ah, yes… rules and traditions _are_ very important. You sure showed me what's what let me tell ya…"

"…mmm-hmm," Gerald responded skeptically, barely concealing an eye roll. I suppose I could have been a little less obvious…

* * *

_South Hillwood High_

"Everyone" was less than usual. Arnold, obviously, was gone, but so were Eugene and Harold, and Brainy, Park, Peapod Kid, and Lorenzo didn't even go here, so the crowd was reduced to me, Phoebe, Rhonda, Nadine, Gerald, Sid, Stinky, Rani, Sheena, Lila and Curly.

"All right," Gerald said, unsealing his schedule envelope, "let's see what the damage is…"

"Well, I already know I'm taking all AP courses," Phoebe interjected. "So, I'll probably be sharing English with Helga and Biology with Nadine and Rani."

One by one, we shared our schedules. Turns out in addition to English, I shared my History period (American Civ) with Gerald, Nadine and Stinky, my math period with Sid, Stinky, and Sheena, and Physics with Gerald, Rhonda, and Lila. PE was shared with pretty much everyone, so I'd at least see Phoebe there, and we did share first lunch. The rest of the schedules were more or less what everyone expected, except it turns out Princess had somehow qualified for AP math.

Since I hadn't bothered to specify an elective, they put me in… I shuddered… drama. I hadn't acted in anything since that episode of Babewatch forever ago, although Smmons bugged me to act every single year since apparently I was _so_ good in his Romeo and Juliet back in fourth grade… oh well, maybe I'd be able to convince the teacher to let me transfer to something else.

"So, what elective are you taking…" Sheena asked, looking over my shoulder and _not_ respecting my personal space. "Ooh, you're taking drama? _I'M_ taking drama!"

"What a _shock_," I remarked with an eye roll.

"Oh, it's going to be so much fun! You'll just love the gang, and you already know so many of us!"

"Yes, this was something I totally chose and was in no way forced to take because all the electives bored me."

"Oh, c'mon, it'll be fine. You know, Mr, Simmons is going to be teaching this year…"

My eyebrow went up. "Granola boy? I thought he gave up teaching after San Lorenzo.. y'know, when he went all koo-koo."

"I guess the itch struck again. Maybe he got sick of being a desk jockey."

This was kind of a mixed bag… on the one hand, the guy thinks I'm the frickin' Meryl Streep of Hillwood; on the other, I at least know him, so maybe I can talk him into signing off on a transfer to… I dunno, shop? At least I'd get to handle a blowtorch. Sure, there was the chance of losing fingers, but mine at least grow back.

The gang split up to go to their first-period classes. Mine was history, but I had to make a stop at my locker first. Usually, Arnold would escort me, whether his locker was assigned nearby or not. I didn't miss it. Not at all. Not one bit. No sirree. Uh uh. Nope. Locker trips were supposed to be for drop-offs and pick-ups, not for romance. If I repeat this enough, I will convince myself.

* * *

I was in the process of dumping the books I didn't really need right at the moment when a pair of hands suddenly covered my eyes and a voice said "Guess who?" My hand immediately snapped back in the way that only that voice could make it, a reflex that was s ingrained that I had to actively force myself to stop mid-snap. Luckily, he managed to catch my wrist instinctively, although if I had put my full strength into it he'd be nursing a bloody nose right now.

"_Criminy_, Brainy," I scolded, swiveling around to face him, "you should know better than to sneak up on me like that by now!"

"It's okay, I took my glasses off just in case," he replied with a grin, putting them back on.

"So… it _can_ learn," I joked. "So, uh… not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Last I checked, this isn't your school."

"That's what I was about to tell you… I decided to transfer here this year so we could see each other more. Isn't that great?"

"S-sure… it's great."

His face fell. "I knew it. I knew this was a step too far, but I went and did it anyway. I came on too strong, and I've pretty much derailed this before it even started."

"No!" I protested. "I… I just wasn't expecting this, is all. You know I don't do well with surprises. Your face certainly does, anyway. But… this is cool. We get to see each other on more than weekends." Okay, so I'm not entirely on board with this… like I said, I'm not big on surprises, and this was sprung on me with very little warning… but I owe it to both of us to make this thing work. To prove I can be with someone non-football-headed. "So, what's your schedule like? You missed the meet-up earlier. Do any of the others know you're going here?"

"Not yet. I couldn't risk anyone else spilling the beans. Anyway, I'm going to be taking advanced courses since I'm a year ahead… are you in any of those?"

"Just English," I replied. "But you'll be with Rhonda and Curly in math, Nadine and Rani in Bio, and Phoebe in… well, everything."

"That's kind of surprising… I always thought you were brilliant. You could've easily made it into any of the advanced classes."

"Well, I'll tell you one thing… you just got bonus boyfriend points for not bringing up how brilliant my sister was. But yeah… I guess I could have gone for advanced courses, but I never really saw the point of it. I already know what I want to do with my life, anything else is just overachieving. I figure I'll leave that to Olga."

"I do love a girl who knows what she wants out of life," Brainy opined, smiling. "Well, can I walk you to your first class?"

"Sure… I mean, if it's not too out of your way or anything. We're kinda on a tight schedule as is."

"Oh, it's no trouble. I have my French class just a few doors down from here. Allons-y?"

"Um… yeah. Allens Ee!" French was _not_ my language. I'd made some attempts to learn it in an effort to impress Arnold, but I always wound up butchering the pronunciation horribly. And the last "Learn French the Easy Way" CD I bought was no help.

* * *

"_Les pélicans ont rempli mon slip de crème anglaise." the voice on the CD calmly recited. "Pelicans have filled my underpants with custard! Oh ho ho ho ho!"_

"_What the…"_

"_J'aime danser nue sur le parking. I like to dance naked in the parking lot! Oh ho ho-" I quickly tapped "eject" on my CD player and chucked the disc in the trash._

"_Last time I buy a French CD at the dollar store…"_

* * *

The classroom was almost full by the time I made it. The last seat left was way closer to the front than I ever intended to sit, but beggars can't exactly be choosers. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, at least, so being late wouldn't be a problem.

About three minutes after the bell rang, the teacher finally arrived. Inwardly, I shuddered. Was EVERY teacher from PS118 teaching here now?

The dull-faced, balding, bespectacled man listlessly made his way to the front of the room and scrawled "AMERICAN HISTORY 301 – MR. FRANK" on the board. "Good morning," he said in a tone that expressed that he cared nothing about what time of day it was or its quality. "I'm Mr. Frank, and I will be your teacher this semester. Now, please turn to page 3 of your textbooks and read the first chapter. There'll be a quiz at the end of the period." With that, he plopped down in his chair and began checking his phone. So… this was the quality of instruction we could look forward to this semester. Not that it was much of a surprise… I'd had Mr. Frank for sixth grade and, if anything, he seemed even more enthusiastic than he'd been back then. For one thing, he was still in the room. And he'd said "please." Truly a red-letter day for the Frankman.

Well, best get to it. I opened up my book. Chapter 1 was the arrival of Columbus? Really? There was no other place to start the history of the Americas? I was hoping we'd at least go in a bit deeper than that. We're high school juniors, for cripes sake, not fifth graders. *sigh* Suck it up, Pataki, no need to make waves on your first day…

…damn it…

Slowly my hand went up. I half-expected Frank to just ignore it, but instead, he groaned, looked up grudgingly, and said "Yes? Can I help you?"

"I was just wondering… the books start in the fifteenth century. Does this mean we won't be covering the Native civilizations that were already in existence before the arrival of European explorers?"

He glared. "What's your name." he asked with the implication that he really didn't care much what the answer was.

"Helga Pataki," I replied. "Actually, you were my teacher back in sixth grade in PS118, so I thought you would remember me…"

"I've never taught sixth grade in my entire life," he replied. "You must be talking about my brother, Barry Frank. I'm Harry Frank."

"You're identical twins?"

"Don't be silly. We're two out of three triplets." There was _another_ one of these guys?

"So your other brother's name is…"

"That's right. Sylvester. But we're getting sidetracked. You were telling me that you think the class needs to do a ten-page report on indigenous civilizations."

"Um, I don't think that's what I said at-"

"Because quite frankly, I really don't want to put in all that effort, and I doubt that the class does either, but if you think it's necessary… after all, you _are_ the teacher here, aren't you? Oh, wait, no, that's _me_. Right?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. His game here was clear. Make an example of the first troublemaker so that he won't have any others. Pound down the nail that's sticking out. I know how his type works. Normally, I would take this sort of thing as a challenge, but it was the first day, and I really didn't want to get into it right now. But rest assured… this wasn't over. I don't back off… I retreat strategically.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, we're back to school! Lots of stuff going on, and we'll be getting to the other characters' POVs, but Helga's basically the star of the series so I figured we'd start with her.**

**Jose: Actually, The Moths is the name of Luna and Sam's band in this series. I've never seen PJ Masks.**

**Veganmama: Lila learned from her late mom. While she's never had access to an instrument of her own, she's been able to get a chance to practice with instruments belonging to the school or her church or friends.**

**JayDogg: Glad to see you've caught up! To answer your comments: I wish I'd thought of that at the time; it was a Bob's Burgers reference more than anything; thanks, I know that anything not Shortaki is a hard sell, so I'm glad I could sell it; ah, I see you are a person of culture as well; maybe she can be Rhonda's partner, the PUN-isher; hell, Rhonda didn't even get to mention that her own dad is part-Asian, so Clayton's hopes were already dashed; you know what? I'm rolling with it!**

**Next: Rivalry**


	34. Rivalry

Chapter 33

Rivalry

_-RHONDA-_

We were a few says into the new semester at this point. Today was the day of the week I had been looking forward to most of all, though. Cheerleading tryouts. Of course, they were going to be a mere formality, seeing as I had been on the squad for two years at this point, but I suppose fair was fair.

"Well," I asked at lunch, "Who's joining me at tryouts?"

"Pass," Helga remarked. "I know for some bizarre reason you see the need to surround yourself with those fembots, but it's really just not my scene."

"Helga doesn't want to cheerlead. I'm shocked. Look at my shocked face, everyone." I deadpanned.

"Honestly?" she replied. "You're _better_ than this, Rhonda. For some reason, you think you need to be in with the popular crowd, even though we both know you would rather spend time with this gaggle of yahoos. No offense, yahoos."

"Oh, no problem," Sid replied.

"Yahoos pretty much does describe us," Stinky added.

"I don't do it for the _popularity_," I clarified. "I do it for the _attention_. I just plain enjoy being on display."

"As long as you're okay with your defectiveness," Helga replied.

"I am. Very." I glanced around the table. "Anyone else? Rani? Lila?"

"Sorry, Rhonda, I'm out this year. Laura talked me into joining the music club instead. To be perfectly honest, I'm kind of down on the whole cheerleading thing. I want to be admired for my musical ability, not my body."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass too," supplemented Rani. "I heard Brandy Bristow's in charge this year. You could not pay me to spend any time around her. Let alone train under her three times a week."

Brandy Bristow. Her pop was one of those social-media billionaires, as in with a B. Speaking of Bs, her dad's wealth gave her the kind of sense of undeserved entitlement that made for a king-sized one. Why wasn't she in an exclusive private school, you ask? Well, she was until last year, but rumor had it she got in some kind of trouble that even her father couldn't bribe her way out of.

She's just the sort of person I could've been if circumstances were different. No wonder we absolutely hated each other. Being drones on the same squad was one thing; at least I had friends of my own to back me up. This time, I'd be all alone in a sea of perfectly-coiffed-and-manicured sharks. Was it really worth it? Maybe I should just skip it all and join the anime club…

…no, what kind of talk is that? I am Rhonda Wellington Lloyd! My sense of entitlement is _earned_, damn it! There I no way I'm going to let Brandy and her minions intimidate me!

"So, it's just me, then."

"Looks like it," Lila said sympathetically. "If it means anything, we're all rooting for you."

"She's right," Helga added. "I hate Brandy more than I hate cheerleading, so you're definitely the lesser of the two evils here. Again, no offense."

"None taken. This is your version of being nice."

* * *

_Post-school, Gymnasium_

"Next."

Brandy Bristow occupied the center seat of the judges' table, flanked by two of her fembots, Claire Yang and Marlene Ford. Brandy regarded me as I approached in my workout gear, a bored look on her overly-made-up face. "Oh, it's you," she said dully as she brushed a lock of her probably-fake blonde har out of her eyes. "Fine, let's get this over with…"

I set my phone into its speaker-caddy and queued up the music for my audition routine. H&H Music Foundry's "Let's All Feel the Groove Right Now" began to play. Clichéd, I know, but it set the proper tone. I launched right into my floor routine, waving the provided pom-pops to the rhythm and throwing in cartwheels, walkovers, and even a split for good measure. Just because I deserved a spot on the team didn't mean I wasn't going to show my stuff. I ended, perfectly in step with the music, flinging my pom-poms up doing a backflip, and catching them without missing a beat.

"Someone's trying too hard," whispered Claire, causing the others to giggle derisively. Whatever. I knew I had performed a flawless routine. Who cared what they thought?

"Well?" I asked.

"Oh, sorrrry," sneered Brandy. "I kind of nodded off there for a bit. I'd ask you to do it again, but I don't want to die of boredom." She waved me along dismissively. "Next?"

"Are you kidding me?" I asked. "That routine was perfect."

"I said 'next,'", Brandy repeated, ignoring my response.

"Are you going to at least give me a reason why you're rejecting me? Given that I've been on the squad for two years already…"

"Really, Lloyd, just move on, you're embarrassing yourself." She glanced aside at her henchwomen. "Old money. They think the world owes them everything." Her minions tittered their agreement.

I knew she was a bitch – everyone knew she was a bitch – but I figured she at least had some level of integrity. But now it had become clear that Brandy was running the cheerleading squad as her own personal fiefdom. "Hey, I didn't have to have my daddy buy my way into running the team," I protested. "I earned my spot. Let's see you try to duplicate that performance. You can't, can you."

The fembots looked to their leader to see how she would respond to this challenge. Brandy simply smirked. "I don't have to. I'm the one in charge, and that's that."

"You're scared," I said, returning her smirk. "If you weren't, you'd answer the challenge. But you know that even your dad's money can't buy talent."

If my barb had gotten to her, there was no sign of it on her face. "Here's the thing about money, sweetie... it talks. And bullshit… that would be _you_, by the way… walks. So. Get to it. Walk." She waved me on. "Maybe you can salvage a little bit of your dignity."

"Fine," I said, turning on my heel. "You need me more than I need you. See if you make State _this_ year." They may have cut me from the team, but they could never deny me a proper storming out.

* * *

I was almost to the school's exit when I realized that, in my haste to storm out, I had left my gym bag there. A fresh wave of embarrassment hit. Now I was going to have to go _back_ there. Well, tryouts were probably over by now, so maybe I could just sneak back in and grab the bag with nobody noticing.

Quietly, discreetly, I made my back to the gym. Thankfully, everyone was gone, and even more thankfully, my gym bag was still there. I ran in and grabbed it, then made my way to the exit when I heard someone enter from the gym's rear entrance, a male/female pair giggling suggestively, likely as a result of having taken advantage of the privacy to engage in a little hanky-panky. I ducked out of sight, once I recognized who the voices belonged to. One was Brandy's. The other…

"You always did have some talented hands, babe," Ludwig remarked.

"Play your cards right, you'll find out just how talented," Brandy replied. "Now, you know the price, right?"

"*groan* Fine… 'So, how was your day?'"

"Get this… you would not believe who came in to try out today. The Little Dutch Girl herself."

"Amy Van Guilder?" asked Ludwig cluelessly, not getting the rather crude double entendre.

"No, idiot, Rhonda Lloyd."

"Oh. *beat* I don't get it."

"…you know, because she sticks her finger in a d-"

"Oh! Ha ha ha ha! I get it now!"

"Right. Anyway, you'll be happy to know I sent the skinny bitch packing."

"Cool. Uh, why did you do that?"

"Because she hangs with that Pataki chick who beat you up. Also, because she's a wannabe tryhard loser, but… mostly the other thing."

"Awesome. You're the best, babe."

_Skinny_? Wait… _wannabe tryhard loser_? Wait… she didn't even do it to get back at me, but at _Helga_? On behalf of _Ludwig_?I didn't even know what to be offended at first!

This… was _not_ going to stand.

* * *

"I'm telling you, she did you a favor," Helga stated. "Cheerleading is the biggest waste of time imaginable."

"But it was my waste of time. And _she_ took it away from me."

"Why do you even care?" Helga asked. "You know you're better than her. I know you're better than her. That's all that should matter. And besides, now you have that time free to do things that are actually worthwhile."

"No, I totally get it," the criminal I was dangling over the edge of the rooftop by his ankle interrupted. "Sounds like this girl you're talking about is constantly getting away with stuff. Unlike me, am I right?" he chuckled.

"Hey. quiet, you. Girl talk." Helga shot back.

Oh, did I not mention Helga and I were out on patrol at the time? This guy was one of a bunch of people attempting to break into BleepBoop Inc. HQ – ironically, Brandy's dad's company – to steal corporate secrets. I'd caught this particular guy after he learned the folly of trying to use a taser on a girl who controls electricity. Don't worry… we weren't using any real names for this conversation.

"I'm just sayin'," he said, "I get that it's not always so easy to pretend that people's words and actions don't have an effect on you. 'Cause they do. When I was your age, I had terrible acne. Everyone used to call me "pizza face" and "spots" and "Maurice" – trust me, that last one made sense in context – and I would pretend that I was above it all, but it really hurt."

"See, Temper? This guy totally gets it."

Helga smirked. "He _is_ a surprisingly insightful piece of criminal scum."

"Thank you. I stole a psychology book last week and it was really fascinating."

"So, how do I get back at Queen Bee?" I asked.

"Well-" the crook began.

"Violence is not an option." I specified.

"Well, that puts the kibosh on my first idea. You got any dirt on the girl?"

I sighed. "Sadly, no. I'm just not the gossip queen I used to be these days."

"Personally, I think it's a mistake to stoop to her level," his partner, who was cuffed to a standpipe at the moment, interrupted. "Temper's right. Take pride in the fact that you're the better woman."

"Don't listen to him," Perp 1 responded. "You ignore her, she's gonna walk all over you."

How did I wind up in this position, wondering which career criminal's advice to take?

* * *

"_If you ask me, you're better off…"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I get it, Helga… 'Cheerleading is for brain-dead bimbos who get off on being stared at.' But what can I say… I enjoyed it! Besides, it's the principal of the thing! She's abusig her power for revenge!"_

"_So that's what this is all about? It's some kind of ass-backward way to get back at me for beating up her boyfriend?'_

"_That's exactly it. I'm not even the target, I'm the splash damage…"_

"_You do watch my videos!" Nadine trilled happily._

"_Of course. I don't know what the hell's going on, but I love listening to your voice. Anyway, I doubt that girl's going to stop at making my life hell, she and her minions are going to go after anyone connected with you. And I seriously doubt Ludwig himself is going to play innocent bystander in all of this."_

"_Okay… so this is some vendetta on her part. And we should probably be concerned about that. I get that. But really, losing out on being on the cheerleading squad? Is that such a great loss?"_

"_Helga," Phoebe advised. "Perhaps you should show a little empathy. What if Brandy took away something that you held dear, but others might not understand? What if, say, she decided to have her father cancel Wrestlemania?"_

"…_she. Would. Not. Dare." Helga stated coldly._

"_Wouldn't she? Her father has, to use the vulgar terminology, 'Fuck you money.' Imagine the depths she could stoop to."_

_Helga seemed to consider this for a moment. "Damn, I never really thought of it that way. Hey, maybe we can take your mind off it, Rondaloid? C'mon… you wanna get ice cream?"_

"_No…"_

"_You wanna go take out your frustrations on the criminal element and __then__ get ice cream?"_

"_*sigh* Yes…"_

"_Good. We'll do that, then."_

* * *

Oh, right.

'J, I'm getting tired of this," Helga said. "Let's just bring these guys in and get on with it, okay?"

"I dunno, these guys are making some pretty good points. Sweet black revenge has its appeal, but I can see the advantages of taking the high road as well. I want to be the bigger woman, but I also think someone has to take that bitch down a notch."

"True… she does have it coming," agreed Helga. "Are we _sure_ violence isn't an option here?"

"Yeah, sorry," I said. "It's only _momentarily_ satisfying."

"You _could_ go to the head coach or the principal, tell then what you overheard…"

"And have snitching on my record? Why don't I just find a way to make my social standing tangible and then throw it directly into a wood-chipper?"

"Just playing devil's advocate. Okay, so what would revenge from the high road look like? We'll have to brainstorm this…"

"So," Perp 2 asked, "Do you guys go to a normal school, or is there some kind of special school, like that one Captain Picard had in the movies?"

"Yeah, I think it's time to bring these guys in," Helga determined. "So, there's a Creamatorium a couple of blocks away from the station that's open all night. Wanna give some insomniac ice cream hounds a little thrill? Pose for a couple of selfies, sign a few autographs?"

"I do love both of those things," I conceded. "Very well, shall we?"

* * *

_Two days later_

Coach Jack Wittenburg surveyed his current starting line. After a long, rocky career, he'd finally landed a pertinent gig two years ago (with a bit of help). And while his first year as football coach had been fruitless, he'd managed to take the team to State last year. He'd never been this successful before, and was eagerly anticimating a repeat of said year's performancy.

So it was with a heady heart that he registrated that an integral part of last year's team was missing.

"WHATTAY MEAN, BERMAN GOT HIS GED?" he bellowed.

"Sorry, coach," Gerald replied. "I guess he got tired of being the oldest guy in school."

"But what am I supposed to do without him? My entire offense involved around that slab of meat! No one could plow through a defensive line like he could!" He began to sob. "It's over. I'm ruined. Back to scrubbin' toilets at the Y for me…"

"Dude, you're not being very encouraging right now." Wolfgang remarked.

"Well, whattaya want from me?" the coach asked. "The rug's just been pulled out from over me!"

"C'mon, man!" Gerald reasoned. "We got a solid team even without Harold. All we need is to replace everyone who graduated last year."

"Replace? What are the odds of replacing Berman?"

"Uh… excuse me, I heard this is where tryouts are taking place?" a new voice asked from behind him.

"Yeah, yeah, line up over th-" He stopped in mid-thought and turned. That was a voice unmistably of the female precision.

"Do I know you?" he asked. There was something about the tall, slim, black-haired girl that was promoting a memory.

"Actually, I was on your bowling team seven years ago. The 'Zephyrs'."

Coach Wittenburg snapped his fingers. "Crazy Legs! I thought I remembered you from somewhere. Well, I think you might be confused, little lady," he said. "The cheerleading tryouts were two days ago."

"Oh, I know," she acknowledged. "I'm here to try out for the football team."

He blinked incredulously as a few members of the team chuckled. The girl looked as if she'd blow away in a stiff breeze. How on Earth did she think she had what it took to play football? "This is a joke, right? You're filming me right now for one of your Tik-Vine or Me-Toob prank videos or whatever."

"No, I'm absolutely serious, Coach. I'm here to try out."

"Are you out of your mind, Crazy Legs? Bowling is one thing, but the gridiron s no place for someone like you!"

"What, because I'm a girl?" she asked, hands defiantly on hips.

"No, because you look like you weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet!" he pointed out. "This is a brutal game and someone like you is gonna get clobbered! That's why I wouldn't let Rooney over there on the team."

"I may be puny and sickly, but I have what really counts in a football game, grit and *cough* determination!" the diminutive aspirant insisted.

"I told you, Rooney, it's _not_ happening." He turned back toward Rhonda. "And it's not happening for you either. I can not, in good conscious, let you on this team. It's a lawsuit waiting to happen, and your pop could probably afford the _good_ lawyers."

Rhonda raised an eyebrow. "I had a feeling you might react like that, so… I went over your head."

Coach Wittenberg felt something nasty forming in the pit of his stomach. "You… you didn't…"

"Jack?" a husky voice asked.

"Uh… hello dear," the coach stammered.

"Hello yourself," Head Coach Tish Wittenburg answered. "Now, am I to understand you're attempting to deny this young lady the opportunism to try out for the football team?"

"Well, you gotta understand… I mean, she's not really… just _look_ at her!" he pleaded.

"Need I remind you, according to state law, coaches are forbidden to deny any student a tryout on the basis of race, religion, _or_ gender?"

"I… kinda remember readin' something like that some years back…" Jack hemmed.

"So, ipso fatso, you are obligated to offer Miss Lloyd a tryout."

"What about me, Coach?" Rooney asked hopefully.

"No," Tish replied. "That would be criminal negligence."

"But I'm an underdog story waiting to happen!"

"You are literally on crutches," she pointed out.

'Awww," Rooney whined, hobbling out of the gymnasium.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to it, Jack. You better give her a fair shake, or you're gonna face the consecrations." Tish concluded, exiting.

"_Never_ get married," advised Jack to the team. "Especially to your boss."

* * *

**A.N.: Coach Wittenberg is kinda hard to write. You have to make his malaprops feel natural and not forced.**

**Jose: Turns out the band's actual name is "Moon Goat", apparently, but maybe they changed it. Also apparently Chunk quit but maybe he came back? These are the risks with crossovers with an ongoing show.**

**JayDogg: Siamese.**

**And speaking of crossovers with an ongoing show, I have one coming up. I was trying to figure out how I would resolve the mysterious shop plotline, and I realized that it was the perfect opportunity to have the storyline cross over with a certain show that I've gotten really into lately, so stay tuned! It's still a bunch of chapters away, though. In the meantime, I've got a bunch of other stuff that I hope you enjoy.**


	35. Ain't No Rule in the Rule Book

Chapter 34

Ain't No Rule in the Rule Book Says a Mutant Can't Play Football

_-RHONDA-_

"_I figured it out! The perfect way to take the high road __and__ get back at Brandy and Ludwig!"_

"_And what would that be?" Helga asked, raising an eyebrow._

"_I am going to join the football team," I replied proudly._

_The other girls looked back at me as if I had suddenly started speaking Dothraki while standing on my head and farting the national anthem of Kyrgyzstan._

"_I don't think any of us expected to hear her say that," Rani remarked._

"_What?" I asked. "We all used to play back in fourth grade, well, most of us anyway. And I seem to remember being pretty good at it."_

"_That was touch football, though," Sheena reminded me. _

"_Not always, it wasn't." I recalled. _

"_I believe what Sheena is attempting to convey is that High School Football is significantly more… intense than a fourth-grade pickup game." Phoebe clarified. "Need I remind you of the ongoing controversy regarding head injuries?"_

"_Don't worry, I looked into it and SHH only uses the most up-to-date safety equipment, not to mention I've got super-healing. Injuries won't be a problem."_

"_There's also the fact that, even in our human forms, we have access to certain… gifts that could prove an unfair advantage on the gridiron."_

"_Well, Phoebe," I responded, "that certainly is a concern, but on the other hand, I… what's the phrase? Don't care. Yes, that's it. I don't care." Phoebe looked as though she wanted to retort, but could not think of a counter that was worth bringing up._

"_I'm confused," Lila asked. "How, exactly, is this supposed to constitute getting revenge on Brandy and Ludwig?"_

"_Well, think about it. With me on the team, Ludwig would be forced to play alongside me, and Brandy would be obligated to cheer for me. They'd be simply eating themselves up inside," I gloated with a rueful smirk._

"_Ahhh… I get what you're layin' down," Helga responded gleefully. "Psychological revenge. Just as brutal, and it doesn't leave a mark."_

"_Yeah, you get me."_

"_I do. I get you."_

"_Plus she's gonna look cute in the uniform," Nadine added, glomping me. _

"_There's that, yes," I agreed._

"_I'm still not entirely sold on this," Sheena commented. "You're essentially going into the lion's den here."_

"_Not really. Don't two of you have boyfriends on the team?"_

"_Wolfgang isn't really my boyfriend… per se…" Lila said, blushing. "We've only gone out a couple of times so far, and it hasn't gone further than that."_

"_Do you want it to?" I asked._

"…_maybe? I kind of like the idea of taking things slowly."_

"_I'm still kind of floored that it's __Wolfgang__ of all people," Sheena remarked._

"_I know, right?" Rani added. "I don't really have all that much history with the guy, but you guys used to tell horror stories about him. I mean… Trash Can Day? How is something like that even allowed?"_

"_He's changed. A lot," I replied. "Enough that I'm okay with one of my best friends dating him. Anyway, we're getting away from the point… that I will be __fine__."_

* * *

And that is how I wound up here, on the school's football field, for tryouts.

Gerald took me aside once the coach left to watch other aspirants trying out. "Okay," he said, "level with me, Rhonda… this is all some kind of stunt to get more followers than Brandy, right?"

"No stunt, Gerald. I'm really here to try out for the team. Getting more followers will be a nice bonus, I will grant you that, but if I make the team, I fully intend to stick with it."

"Okay, so, what you're sayin' here is, ya crazy."

"*sigh* I just got through explaining this to your girlfriend, Gerald. I am absolutely physically capable of playing this game. You know that."

"It's not that. I know you can handle it. I just think you're doing it for all the wrong reasons."

"Oh… so Phoebe told you about that, huh." I rubbed my forearm sheepishly.

"You should be joining this team because you love the game… not out of spite," he chastised.

"I do love the game… well, I _like_ the game…"

"Mmm-hmm," Gerald replied skeptically. "Look, I'm just sayin' if you're gonna join the team, you better be committed _to the team_, not to stickin' it to the Queen Bee and her meathead drone."

"Nice metaphor."

"Pop's been takin' a beekeeping course at the rec center. He got tired of paying for honey. Anyway… think about it."

"Okay, Crazy Legs, you're up," Coach Wittenberg said as Gerald rejoined his teammates. Most of the team was snickering and elbowing each other as I took my position. "We're gonna start off with three laps around the perambulator of the field." He readied his stopwatch. "And… go."

So they were laughing at me. Big whoop. I wasn't going to let it get me down. In fact, it just made me even more determined to push onward. I let their jeers fuel me as I ran the required laps. I even threw in a smug little wave as I finished.

"_Mama Leone_," the coach marveled incrementa- _incredulously_… great, now he's got me doing it… as he clicked his stopwatch. "Fastest time I've ever seen. How are you not on the track team?"

"Because we don't have one?" I supplied.

"That's bestride the point. I don't think we've ever had anyone as fast as you before. Hmm… Caudell!"

"Yes, coach?"

"I want you to throw Lloyd one of your best long bombs. Put everything you've got into it."

Wolfgang immediately seemed to pick up on Wittenburg's plan. "All right," he said, snapping a tight spiral deep into the end zone. I ran for it and just barely managed to catch it.

"Hmmm… Throw it back, Lloyd!"

I complied, but the throw was a bit wide. The team laughed. "You throw like a girl!" hooted Ludwig.

"I _am_ a girl, you moron," I reminded him.

"Oh, right… well, you still suck!" he replied, smirking.

"Here's hoping," one of his buddies crudely added, winking. Uggh, gross. How badly do I want this?

"Hmm… well, we'll need to work on that…" the coach mused. "Let's see a few more catches, Crazy Legs."

Wolfgang threw several more balls, some bombs, some laterals. I grew more proficient at catching them with each one, with only one near-fumble on the second-to-last one.

"All, right, I've seen enough," the coach announced, making the time-out motion.

"I haven't. She's still wearing her shirt," one of the players commented salaciously.

"PENNER!" snapped Wittenburg. "That's gonna be fifty pushups! And it's gonna be double to the next one of you that treats our new wide receiver with misrespect!"

"New wide receiver?" I repeated.

"Welcome to the Narwhals, Crazy Legs," the coach said, smiling. Most of the team grumbled in response. "And the rest of you better get used to it. I could always go up to 150 pushups."

The tryouts continued for another hour. Some freshmen made the team, most didn't. It didn't really matter, my own place on the team was secure now, though I didn't seem to be the most popular recruit. Every time I approached my new teammates, they would snub me. Well, most of them snubbed me. Ludwig was a different story.

"I'm going to make your life a living hell, Lloyd," he whispered to me as I passed, once he was sure the coach was out of earshot.

"Glad to be on the same team too, Van Dyke," I replied innocently. I had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of flustering me.

"You'll be gone soon enough. I'm gonna make sure of it," he said, walking away.

"Hey," Wolfgang said. "Don't let him get to you."

"I'm not so much worried about _him_ as I am about almost everyone else on the team following his lead."

"Don't worry about that, either. I'm starting quarterback, not him. I'll get everyone to fall in line, don't worry about it. All you should have to worry about is being the best wide receiver you can be."

"You really have changed a lot over the summer, haven't you?"

"What can I say, I have better influences in my life now. Now, how about we work on your passing?"

"Sounds like a plan. I do need work on that…"

* * *

The next two weeks were a blur of classes and practice. Despite Wolfgang's assurance that the rest of the team would eventually accept me, I found myself getting "accidentally" tripped and bumped a lot. Always conveniently when the coach wasn't looking, too. Despite this, my throwing was steadily improving, to the point where I hit the mark more often than not. The likelihood was that I wouldn't have to do much throwing – as wide receiver, my job was to run like hell, catch the ball, and run like hell more – but it would be nice to be able to toss the ball back to the QB without embarrassing myself.

In any case, the date of our first game of the year, against the Valleywood Ocelots (natural enemies of narwhals in the wild), drew near. Thanks to my gender, I had a locker room and shower all to myself (a fact that I'm sure only further endeared me to my teammates). Suiting up, I was thankful for my modest figure; while I'd never really envied my more amply-endowed friends (it's not how much you have, but how you use it), I could only imagine how constricted, say, Lila would be in this getup.

Exiting the locker room, I paused to take a look at myself.

Well, damn. I _can_ pull off green and gold. Good, I need the confidence booster.

I left my locker room just as the rest of the team was exiting theirs. Of course, they were still snubbing me, most of them anyway. Ludwig brushed against me harshly as he passed by, whispering "You're gonna choke like a giraffe on a watermelon, Lloyd," with a withering glare. His cohorts laughed in approval.

"Oh, yeah?" I said. "Well, that simile is labored at best!" Smooth comeback, Rhonda. Well, at least I had two allies on the team. "So, Gerald…" I said holding out my hand for a hi-five, "ready to kick some ass? …'cause it's football? Feet? Come on, don't leave me hanging!"

For a moment, Gerald hesitated before returning the slap, earning a disapproving glare from his teammates. I had been a little worried; while Wolfgang had taken me under his wing, Gerad had been more standoffish; I wasn't sure if it was because I'd ignored his advice or if he was just scared of going against the rest of the team.

"Sorry, Rhonda." He said apologetically.

"I was beginning to worry. It's kinda weird that Wolfgang's been more supportive than you have. We've known each other practically forever."

"Yeah, well…" He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, "I just thought you joining the team was a bad idea and I didn't wanna encourage it. To tell the truth… I'm still not a hundred percent on board, but… I've been watching you. You stuck with it, even with everyone hatin' on you. That shows dedication. And for that… you have my support."

"Thank you, Gerald. That means a lot to me."

"Yep. So… that's me down…"

"…and seventeen to go. Lovely." The two of us walked onto the field.

"RHONDA! RHONDA!"

I looked up to see Nadine sitting in the front row, her face painted green and gold, wearing the official South Hillwood Narhwals Narwhal Horn, and waving one of those giant foam #1 fingers. "Look at me! I'm a football girlfriend!" God, I love that beautiful dork.

"Damn, girl," whispered Gerald. "The horn and everything."

"Yeah… I'm starting to think I can really do this now."

As the teams took the field, the announcer began to call out the team rosters. I took note that I was announced as "certainly the prettiest player on the field." Sigh. Well, I should have known that I'd be treated as a novelty at the beginning. I could see the news coverage now, lots of mention of how "groundbreaking" it was that I was the first girl to play for the team, very little mention of my actual skills. Well, this was the part where I gave them something else to write about.

"All right, team, this is it," Wittenburg intoned. "It all comes down to this. I want us giving our all. I want our defense to defend, I want our offense to offend, and if we stick to that, we will emerge with victoriousness and successfulity. Now, the Ocelots are a formidulous team, but we have something they don't."

"Heart?" asked one of the running backs; Hector, I think his name was.

"Don't be ridiculous. What we have is the single fastest wide receiver in the conference. I want her to be centermost to our offensive strategery. Now, on three, I want a shotgun formation. Your objection will be: Get the ball to Lloyd."

"This brings back memories," muttered Gerald.

"We can mix it up once our lead is insturmountably established, but for now, our said goal is to rack up as many points as humanely possible. Now, let's break!"

The huddle over, we took formation for the scrimmage. Several teammates cast baleful glances my way; suddenly being the center of our offense wasn't doing me any favors in the popularity department.

"17! 34! 29! Hike!" That was the code for the play we were about to run, long bomb to me, #17. My goal was to break around the edge of the defensive line and get as far downfield as possible.

The one thing I did not expect was for one of my own teammates to trip me up. I went down, hard, into the turf. No big deal, I heal like the dickens even when I'm not all purple and mutatey, but it was humiliating. And infuriating.

"Oops," Ludwig said with a smirk. "How clumsy of you."

Without me to throw to, Wolfgang attempted to run the ball himself and was tackled with no yards gained. The first down a failure, we huddled for the next down.

"All right," Coach Wittenburg stated, "that didn't go so good, but it's still a stolid strategy. I say we run a flea flicker this time, to Lloyd. They won't be expecting a second downfield play."

"I dunno, Coach," Ludwig replied innocently. "Seems Lloyd isn't very good on her feet."

The coach glared at him. "You don't think I'm very bright, do you, Van Dyke?" he scolded. "I saw the stunt you pulled. You're out for the rest of the game."

"WHAT?!" retorted Ludwig, shocked.

"Pull anything like that again, you're off the team for good. Interpersonable conflicts have no place here. I don't care if you have a beef with another player, this team needs to act as a single unit, and there's no 'I' in 'unit!'"

"Uh…" Gerald began before thinking the better of it. Ludwig gave me a look that declared "This isn't over" and stalked off the field.

For those of you unfamiliar with the game, the "flea flicker" play is a fake-out play involving multiple lateral passes between the quarterback – that would be Wolfgang – and one of the running backs – those would include Gerald, Hector, and a few others – in order to confuse the opposing line into thinking that one of them would run the ball when the real object is to ultimately pass to a receiver – that would be me. If pulled off successfully, it can be a very effective play. The problem is the risk. Multiple passes mean multiple possibilities of a sack or an interception. Then again, it was early in the game. Any losses now could easily be made up, while the chance to run up some early points was too tempting to pass up.

We took formation. Wolfgang snapped up the ball, and that was my cue to run like heck. This time, there was no one trying to trip me up, and the opposing team wasn't even attempting to cover me. Probably didn't think I was a serious threat. Whatever, I wasn't going to begrudge a lucky break. I got as far downfield as I could get while still being within a decent range (Wolfgang and I had been drilling for two weeks, so I had a good idea of his range by now. Hector was just lateralling the ball back to Wolfgang, setting up the final step of the play. Sure enough, Wolfgang began to move as if he was abut to attempt a run for the first down, but at the last second switched up and passed far downfield.

At this point it was up to me. If I fumbled, well, that was it for people taking me seriously. No pressure, though! At this point, the opposing squad was just starting to realize that, hey, nobody was covering the girl, maybe we should do something about that! But it was too late. None of them were in a position to intercept the ball. Only two outcomes were possible now. I catch the ball and run like heck, or I fumble and humiliate myself and my team for daring to have faith in me – no.

One outcome. Catch the ball. Run like heck. Run like you never have before. And before I even knew it, I was in the end zone and I could hear the cheers from the stands and the announcer's voice declaring "Touchdown! #17, Rhonda Lloyd!" I had done it. I'd scored the first touchdown of the season. Me.

After that, the other team got wise, and I would have at least one lineman covering me for the rest of the game. None fast enough to keep up with me, but big enough so there was at least a chance of passes being intercepted.

And to their credit, the opposing team's offense certainly wasn't slacking off. In fact, they kept almost an even pace with us for most of the game and even pulled ahead on a field goal towards the end.

There was time for one play left. We were close, and could probably tie it with a field goal, but that would send things into overtime, at which point it could go either way. A touchdown would end things decisively.

"All right, team, I have to say, we may be down, but we still have a chance to secure victoriousness. But we're gonna need to be sneaky. Now, at this point they expect us to pass to Lloyd, so we need to belay said expectation. What we're gonna do is, we start with the bootleg, leading them to make the assumption that we have switched out our preemptive strategery, thereby lullifying them into a false sense of security. It will be at said point that we will translate to the Razzle-Dazzle play and pass to Lloyd. You got all that? Good. On three, break!"

And so it played out, Wolfgang taking the snap and running around the left end of the formation before snapping it to me a few yards from the end zone. Right away I could tell that this was proving to be a mistake; I had picked up three linemen covering me, and could see no way around them to get into the end zone. That was it for the run, since there wasn't enough time to pull off another down. I could try to push my way through, but it was iffy.

But there was another option. Gerald was open. "Heads up!" I shouted, lateraling the ball directly at him. "Go, go, go!"

And run, he did. And the South Hillwood Narwhals took it, 27-24. As Gerald had scored the winning touchdown, it was he who was carried off on our teammates' shoulders, but that was fine. I had made my point. I indulged myself a glance over at the cheerleaders; if Brandy and her surrogates had any feelings about me, they weren't showing them. There was no sign of Ludwig anywhere, either. He'd apparently made a hasty exit after the coach tossed him out. Fine with me… as long as he wasn't planning something. No fair escalating after I already escalated.

"Pumpkin!" My father's voice sounded behind me. I turned to see him walking across the field with Mom and Rhia in tow.

"You came?" I asked. "I figured you wouldn't think it was proper."

"Precious, I gave up on the thought of having a conventional daughter a long time ago. It's clear to me now that you are going to do whatever you're going to do, and the best I can do is take comfort in the knowledge that whatever you do, you will be _outstanding_ at it. You _are_ a Lloyd, after all."

"And a Wellington," added Mom. "Granted, that line only goes back to me…"

"Still proud of it, Mom," I assured.

"Does this mean I can play hockey?" asked Rhia.

"We'll talk about it, darling," Dad replied placatingly. "In a few years."

"Awww…"

"Heeeey, champ!" Nadine called, glomping me from behind.

"Heeey, yourself, Butterfly. And watch out with that thing, you could put someone's eye out."

"Don't act like you're not into it, Sparks," she said nuzzling me. "Maybe I'll keep it. Marine mammals _are_ my second favorite type of animal…"

"I thought that was reptiles."

"They moved up the list."

"Hey, Rhonda!" Wolfgang called, from where the rest of the team was celebrating their win. "You getting in on this? Everyone's asking for you."

"I don't know," I replied. "I kinda find that hard to believe. I'm not exactly the most popular member of the team."

"A member-less member," Nadine whispered with a chuckle.

I went red. "Nadine, that's my little sister back there!" Mom was already ushering Rhia away wile she tried to ask her what "member" meant.

"Sorry," she giggled. "Couldn't resist. Anyway, go on… they can have you for a bit… just as long as I get you the rest."

"Get in here, Crazy Legs!" Hector shouted. It looked like the coach's nickname had officially caught on.

I gave her a squeeze. "I won't be long." I jogged up to the crowd only for them to hoist me up onto their shoulders next to Gerald, who hi-fived me as we were carried off the field. I caught a glare from Brandy as we passed, but for some reason, it didn't arouse much of a feeling from me. Funny; the whole reason I'd even tried out was to stick it to her, but now? Who cared? I had something bigger now. A new squad.

The only question was, would Ludwig move on now that the coach had chastised him publicly and the rest of the team had accepted me? Or would he take things to the next level?

Time would only tell…

* * *

**A.N.: And that's it for this plotline for now… up next, something creepy, spooky, and altogether ooky, just in time for Halloween, or possibly a few days after it depending if I finish it on time.**

**Jose: As I mentioned in my PM, those mistakes (well, most of them; some are just me being a crappy typist as always) were on purpose, since the Coaches Wittenburg are infamous for their malapropisms.**

**JayDogg: Thanks, I'm actually pretty proud of the way I built up the robbery scene.**

**VeganMama: Thanks a lot, I'm glad you caught that. And here, we actually see how Rhonda does on the team. How'd you like it?**

**Next: Take it Away, Gerald**


	36. Take it Away, Gerald

Chapter 35

Treehouse of Hor- uh, Terror

or

Take it Away, Gerald

_Mighty Pete_

_-HELGA-_

**A.N.: For the purpose of not over-cluttering the story, I'm just going to list everyone's costumes right now.**

**Helga: The grim reaper  
Gerald: Frankenstein's Monster  
Phoebe: The Bride of Frankenstein  
Rhonda: Samara (the creepy well girl from The Ring)  
Stinky: Dracula  
Nadine: A parasitic wasp  
Sid: a mummy  
Wolfgang: Jason Voorhees  
Lila: The evil nun from The Conjuring  
Brainy: The Cryptkeeper  
Curly: A mad scientist  
Sheena: a zombie  
Rani: a she-devil  
Eugene: Igor  
Scott: Slender Man  
**

It was a dark and stormy night…

Well, not stormy, no, but it was chilly, and foggy, and just gloomy in general. The perfect ambience for the perfect night.

October 31st. The best day of any year. Horror movies on every channel, free candy, the opportunity to turn yourself into a living nightmare… what could be better? Of course, at our current age, trick-or-treating was looked down upon (with the exception of Rhonda, who conveniently had a little sister she could escort). Even without legalized candy begging, however, there was still plenty of fun to be had on this night of nights. Most of the time, there would be a huge costume party, usually at Rhonda's r Arnold's; this year, the gang had opted for a more intimate get-together. It was a cool but clear night, and there was one location that provided the perfect ambience for a Halloween gathering; the treehouse nestled among Mighty Pete's branches. We had everything we needed… costumes, snacks, eerie lighting, a laptop setup for scary movies and the annual ritual viewing of "Treehouse of Horror", and, of course, scary stories.

Although, not everyone's definition of scary lines up…

"An' they say that, on cold October nights, if you listen to the wind real close, you can hear the plaintive, haunting howl of… _Monkeycat_."

Stinky waited for the reaction to the conclusion of his, let's be kind, horror story, flashlight still held under his chin (or where his chin should have been), but was rewarded only with silence and eye rolls.

"I must say that when you're right, you're right, Sid," Rani finally spoke up. "That _was_ the lamest story ever."

"It weren't lame!" protested Stinky. "It was a nightmarish cautionary tale of science gone horribly, horribly wrong!"

"Well," I said, "after this and Sheena's riveting tale of the haunted chicken coop, we're 0 for 2 so far."

"I still say there's nothing more terrifying than factory farming," maintained Sheena.

"Right, so anyone else got any ripping yarns? Or can we just get to tonight's screening of _Die Laughing III_? You know, something actually scary?

"I have something," Curly replied eagerly. "Something that'll make you wish you all wore diapers."

"Nobody cares about your weird fetishes, Curly," Rani interjected.

"No, because it's so scary you'll pee yourselves!"

"Hey, if you're into that sort of thing, I'm not judging, I just don't wanna hear about it."

"I'm not _into_ – and you're just winding me up, aren't you," he realized. "Anyway… this tale's called –"

"…the Ghost Bride?" I interrupted. Poor twisted freak's been trying to tell this one every year since we started.

"…_no_, it's… it's called… _The Phantom Groom_…"

"…Curly, just… stop. It's just sad at this point." Gerald advised.

"C'mon… it's been seven years! You guys can't still be mad about that one time…"

Ignoring him, I continued, "Someone's gotta have something. What about you, Geraldo? C'mon. You're like the king of creepy shit."

"Mmm… it's true. I am the master. But it's been a long time. I'm out of practice."

"Aw, c'mon…" insisted Sid. "It's been forever, man."

"Well…" Gerald considered. "There has been something I've been saving for just the right occasion. And, as it just so happens… it happened right at this very location." Cue gasps. One thing I will always give Gerald credit for; the guy knows how to hook an audience. "Play me in, Sid."

"The legend of… actually, I legit have no idea where this is going, but, apparently, there's a tale, and our own Gerald is the keeper of that tale. Take it away, Gerald."

_"Friends, many are the hours we have whiled away in the arms of Mighty Pete. But have you ever stopped to ask yourselves, just where this majestic oak got its name? Our story begins in the year 1834, when the city that would one day come to be known as Hillwood was nothing more than a humble fishing village. A tiny settlement of less than a hundred people, eking out their modest living from the bounty of the sea. And among those intrepid men of the briny, none were more renowned than the one called Mighty Pete. While other fishermen were content to bring home the small fry, Mighty Pete went after only the giants of the sea._

_"One day, a day like any other, Mighty Pete and his crew set out to sea, hoping to find that day's catch. The seas were rough that day. Mighty Pete's ship was continuously rocked by swells the size of a house. But through it all, he steered it strong and true, for he knew, that the tiny fishing town depended on his crew. And, so, onward, into the coming storm, he pressed, his ship buffeted left and right by squalls. His crew demanded they turn back, but Mighty Pete would have none of it. And so, the crew came to a sinister conclusion; to save their own lives, Mighty Pete had to go. The only question was, how would the heinous deed be done, and who would do it? The lot was cast, and the gruesome responsibility fell on First Mate Mitchell. The plan was settled upon; when storm was at its worst, when Pete was at his most distracted, First Mate Mitchell would push him overboard, and the vengeful sea would take care of the rest._

_"The closer the fateful moment approached, however, the more Mitchell found his resolve beginning to fade. How could he do such a thing to his captain? And yet, as the storm raged on, and Pete refused to turn back, it became clear that his unbridled hubris would get them all killed. And so, as the storm reached its peak, Mitchell approached his Captain from behind, resolved to perform the horrible, but all-too-necessary act that would doom one, to save many."_

_"But fate had plans of its own that day. No sooner had Mitchell made up his mind, than a swell larger than any before struck the vessel. The boat rocked violently, and before Mitchell could complete his unspeakable task, Pete fell overboard all on his own. Mitchell could scarcely believe his own luck; the decision had been taken out of his hands, and neither he nor his crewmates would bear guilt for the Captain's death._

_"Or so he thought. Having assumed that the sea had claimed his captain, Mitchell was surprised by a shout of 'Avast!' off the starboard hull. He looked down to see Mighty Pete, locked in a desperate struggle to remain afloat against the undertow. In his heart, Mitchell was unsurprised; he knew that Pete was so stubborn that even against the immortal, all-powerful sea, he wouldn't go down without a fight. But even he could not last against Poseidon's wrath forever. As their eyes locked, Mitchell could see that Pete's great strength was fading, and soon, he would be dragged down to Davy Jones's locker._

_"And yet, there was still a chance that he could be saved. All that was needed was for Mitchell to throw Mighty Pete a rope and haul him back up. No one would face the blame for anything, and life would go on…_

_"Until the growing storm winds and Mighty Pete's unbridled overconfidence would seal all their fates permanently, he realized. And so, with the guilt gnawing at his soul, Mitchell turned his back on the captain for the last time._

_"'Ye traitorous bilge rat!' called Mighty Pete. 'How dare ye turn yer back on yer captain! I'll see t'it that ye get yer foul reward, even if I have t'crawl back from the depths of Hell t'do it!' And with this final curse, Mighty Pete, his strength finally spent, sank deep down to a watery grave. And with the Captain finally dead, Mitchell gave the order to return to port, to the joyful shouts of his crew._

_"And, that seemed as though it was the end to it. The residents of what would one day be Hillwood chalked Mighty Pete's death up to an unavoidable nautical accident, and in time all would be forgotten. The days wore on into weeks, then months, until finally a year had passed since the fateful day. Once more, it was time for the fishing vessel to go out to sea. Mitchell, now the Captain, set out to round up his crew. One by one, he sought them out, but the cook, Mr. Shenkarow, was nowhere to be found. They searched high and low for him, and were about to give up, until one of the deckhands caught an unpleasant odor coming from beneath the dock. There, Mr. Shenkarow was found, strangled, bits of seaweed still clinging to his neck, the unmistakable stench of decay mingled with the salty smell of brine._

_"Over the next several days, one by one, the members of crew were found in similar fashion. First, the rigger, McAfee, was found, hung from his own yardarm. Then, ship's carpenter Hack, bludgeoned to death with an oar. And so on, until the only one eft was Mitchell, who knew he had to get as far away from the village, and the sea, as he could. And so he ran, deep into the woods, hoping whatever curse was stalking the crew of the ship wouldn't follow._

_"He ran for a full day, not stopping, until he reached a clearing in the middle of the woods. It was then, exhausted, that he finally allowed himself the luxury of rest; in truth, he could go no farther, for in his fear, he had not eaten or slept since the death of Mr. Shenkarow, and it had taken its toll._

_"And then he heard them, shambling, uneven footsteps approaching. The footsteps… of the living dead. He struggled to look up, but knew exactly what he would see… there he was, his old Captain, risen from the depths, lurching forward slowly and unnaturally, covered in seaweed; his clothing tattered and soaked in seawater despite having chased his prey across dry land for a full day; his flesh, that which the denizens of the deep hadn't consumed, half hanging off his bones; his empty eye sockets seeking out his quarry through some arcane, supernatural form of sight, a sight that saw not light, but guilt._

_"Mitchell knew if he'd been in peak condition, perhaps he could have outrun him, for a while. That's the thing about the dead; they don't get tired. The don't get hungry or thirsty. He knew that, eventually, the Captain would get him, because he was only driven by one hunger… a hunger for vengeance. As it was, he no longer had the strength to run or fight… He looked up to his stalker and begged 'Mercy…' with his last breath, but it was to no avail; the last thing Captain Mitchell saw was the weathered, decayed face of the late Mighty Pete as his bony fingers closed around his throat._

_"Captain Mitchell was never seen again, but it's said that his body was buried on the very spot where this tree grew. What's more, it's said that on All Hallow's Eve, when the vel between the worlds of the dead and the living is at its weakest, you can see the ghost of the betrayed sea captain beneath this tree, this tree named after that very same Captain…. Mighty Pete. The end."_

Cue applause. "Damn, you still got it, Gerald," I remarked.

"Yeah, that story had everything," added Wolfgang. "Murder… betrayal… um, boats…"

"All right, sweetie, you can uncover your ears now, it's over," Curly said, prodding Sheena, who had firmly clamped her hands over her ears and was humming softly to herself.

"Oh… uh… I guess everyone could see that," she said blushing.

"It… wasn't that bad," Lila added, despite looking almost as green as she did in her mutant form.

"Uh… I have a few questions," Nadine asked. "For one… it takes years and years for an oak to grow. By the time it would be grown, how would anyone remember what Mighty Pete looked like?"

"Yes, actually I'm a bit skeptical myself," added Phoebe. "If nobody saw Mitchell again and his body was never found, how dd anyone know this was where he was killed?"

"They do make some rather compelling points," Scott conceded. "Furthermore… if the entire crew was murdered, how does anyone know how Mighty Pete died in the first place?"

"Who caaaaares," I whined. "It's just a stupid urban legend. It doesn't have to make sense."

"It's actually kind of more of a tall tale," Brainy remarked. "Urban legends are more… well… urban."

"Regardless!" I said. "It's not like any of this crap ever actually happened!"

"I'm pretty sure Wheezin' Ed happened, considering we kind of, well, killed him."

"Technically, he was in the process of dying anyway," corrected Phoebe, "we merely accelerated the process by exhausting his stamina."

"Fine, exception that proves the rule. My point is: this whole thing was a bunch of made-up junk designed to give us all a cheap thrill on Halloween. Don't read too much into it."

"…wait, back up a minute," Scott asked. "You people killed a guy?"

"Ohh, crap… you weren't supposed to have heard that. It's hard to remember just who knows what in this group…" I mumbled taking a deep breath. "Okay… a bunch of us are mutants and part-time superheroes, we once fought Wheezin' Ed who it turns out was real, alive, and a monster, and we technically weren't the ones who killed him but he did die while fighting us, don't tell anyone. That's about the general gist of it. Anyway, on that note, I say we start the movie."

"But I have sooooo many questions…" protested Scott before he was cut off by a thumping on the treehouse's trap door.

"Who could that be?" mused Eugene. "I'm pretty sure we're all here…"

"Maybe Harold smelled the pizza from California and ran over," suggested Sid half-jokingly, It was always a possibility with him.

"Better check, then," I said, opening the trap door. A bunch of us looked down. In the gloom of the night, it was almost impossible to tell… other than it was green and covered in what looked like seaweed."

"AWP! The ghost of Mighty Pete! Or maybe his zombie! It's dark and hard to tell!" Sid exclaimed, slamming the trap door on the mystery interloper.

"What?" asked Rhonda. "What's going on? I can't see anything through this stupid wig! The sacrifices I make for authenticity…"

"You heard me!" Sid retorted. "It's a g-g-g-ghost zombie!"

"Ah, for the love of- it's not a ghost or a zombie!" I stated. "It's probably some chump Gerald hired to dress up and scare us."

"Don't look at me," Gerald protested. "I just made all that crap up right now! I never had the time to hire anyone!"

"Then it's the real thing!" whimpered Sid.

"Jinkies!" exclaimed Phoebe.

"What? Don't tell me you buy into this, Pheebs? Also… you never say that!"

"I've been known to on occasion," huffed Phoebe. "Besides… given all the odd occurrences we've seen over the years, even _my_ healthy skepticism has limits."

The thumping began again, more insistent this time.

"We've angered him," Wolfgang whined. "When we wouldn't let him in, we angered him! He won't go away until we're all dead!"

The thumping came again, harder, angrier. "Don't let him in!" pleaded Stinky. "He'll kill us all and drag our souls down to Davy Jones' locker!"

"Screw that," I said. "Zombie ghost or not, there's only one of him and over a dozen of us. I say we can take him. Now who's with me!"

Sheena shrugged. "I guess violence doesn't count if he's already dead."

"All right…. On three, I'm going to open the door, and we all dogpile the sucker! One, two… three!"

I flung open the door. "Finally!" the figure growled, scrambling in, only to be tackled by a dozen frightened teenagers.

"Please forgive us, o vengeful spirit, but it's either you or us," apologized Wolfgang.

"Hang on," Sheena pointed out. "This isn't seaweed. It's expired kale."

"How can you tell?" asked Rhonda.

"Trust me. I know kale when I see it," Sheena stated proudly.

Truth was, now that we could see it properly, the figure looked less like a vengeful spirit and more like a guy in a swamp monster costume.

"Get offa me, guys!" the "spirit" demaded, his mask making it hard to tell just who was under it.

"…maybe we did get a little carried away," admitted Curly.

"Now let's see who this guy really is," suggested Brainy. "What? Phoebe said 'jinkies'…"

"I _have_ said it before…" insisted Phoebe.

"Just do it already," I interjected. "This s already stupid enough."

"All right…" Gerald replied, yanking off the mask. Everyone gasped except Rhonda.

"What? Who is it? I still can't see anything!" she complained.

"Iggy?"

Oh, right. I always forget he exists for some reason.

"Dudes, I _said_ I'd be late! What's the matter with you?"

"Sorry, guy," Gerald apologized. "One of my urban legends –"

"Tall tales" corrected Brainy.

"-got a little too real, and I guess things got a little out of hand."

"You told an urban legend? Aw, man… I always miss the cool stuff," he complained.

"Well, I'm not sure any movie can top that." Eugene stated. I think I'm about ready to call it a night." A bunch of others agreed; apparently, they'd had enough scares for one night.

"Lightweights." I shivered. "But it's kinda getting a little too cold to hang out here. Anyone up for watching the movie back at my place?"

Rhonda shrugged. "As long as I can take this wig off." She removed it. "Oh, so _that's_ what everyone's wearing."

"…yeah, about that… just what are you supposed to be anyway, Nadine?" Rani asked.

"Parasitic wasp," she stated. "They're the necromancers of the insect world."

"Bugs that make zombies. As if they weren't creepy enough…" I muttered.

The party went their separate ways, with a bunch of us making our way back to my apartment, carrying my laptop. Along the way, our path was blocked by a stray cat just sitting there, facing away.

"Hmm… I don't see a collar… must be a stray," Phoebe suggested.

"Well, I'm not taking it in. I just gave Olga's cat back, I don't need to deal with another one. Hey! Move it, bucko! Higher mammals coming through!"

"_Are you_?" the cat replied.

"…what the…" I muttered, as the cat slowly turned, revealing… it had the head of a rhesus monkey.

"_Boo_." It said, sending everyone running away, screaming.

"I told y'all it was scary," Stinky stated, vindicated.

* * *

**A.N.: Happy Halloween! Yes, I actually got this chapter finished in time! What'd you all think?**

**Veganmama: Originally, Rhonda was going to be the one to score the winning touchdown, but I decided that would be cliché'd, and it would be more in keeping with the themes of the chapter to have her instead give up the chance for personal glory and finally get accepted as a team player. And doing it using the skill that was her weakest.**

**Jose: Yes, even though he's a malaprop machine, I wanted to show that when it came down to it, Jack can actually be a pretty good coach.**

**Next: The Final Temptation of Monkeyman**


	37. The Last Temptation of Monkeyman

Chapter 36

The Last Temptation of Monkeyman

_-MONKEYMAN-_

_I am the terror that screeches in the night._

_I am the stray piece of Lego that you step on when you groggily stumble to the bathroom at 3 AM._

_I am…_

_Increasingly irrelevant._

Yes, once, many years ago, it was I who served as this city's stalwart solitary sentinel of justice – boy, I wish there was a synonym for justice that started with S. It all began when I was 12, and bullies tormented me for my obsession with monkeys. "Monkey Boy," they called me. They would mock me with monkey noises and monkey poses. They'd throw peanuts and banana peels at me… among other things I'd rather not mention. The final straw was when they stole my beloved stuffed monkey, Matthew. Always liked that name, Matthew. Anyway, it was at that point that I knew I couldn't let the bullies push me… no, push _anyone_ around anymore. But for that to happen, I could no longer just be Richard Andrews. No. I had to become someone else. I had to become… some_thing_ else. No longer would I be a Monkey Boy… I would become… a Monkey_MAN_.

And a Monkeyman was enough for a while. The bullies of the world were easy enough to cow with the skills granted by self-taught parkour and a karate class at the Y. Anything more serious I left to the police force.

But as time went on, bigger threats, darker threats, began to arise. A Monkeyman was no longer enough. Other forces arose to oppose them, first, Bridget and her crew. That was fine. I was content to handle the small stuff while they took care of bigger things.

But then they came. The mutant girls. Flashy and colorful, with actual superpowers like that ghost boy in the Midwest or those teenagers in Paris. And what's more, they had the unofficial endorsement of the mayor, so they had the sheen of legitimacy. They were fast enough to beat me to any crime scene I could get to, and many more that I couldn't. And they could take on threats I could never dream of handling.

The day they arrived, Monkeyman's obsolescence was sealed.

Oh, I've been trying to carry on as best as I can. A purse-snatching here, a cat in a tree there… but even those they're better equipped to handle than I am, what with their wings, their scratch-proof skin, and their tails that make for perfect cat lures. They can't even let me have that. And they're. let's face it, a lot more photogenic than I am.

It became clear to me just how useless I was when that alien biker guy showed up. Decibelle was able to handle him like a pro. Me? I got tossed aside like an old banana peel. He declared me not even worthy of wasting a punch on. Truly, this was rock bottom.

And yet, while by all accounts that should have been the signal that it was time to pack it in, still I cling to this identity like a jungle vine over a gaping chasm. Still, I stubbornly refuse to give up on the notion that I, too, can still make a difference.

Perhaps it was that desperation to prove my relevance that drove me to my actions today.

It started as it often did, with me listing in on an illegal police scanner. I still routinely gave it a listen every day, in the hopes that maybe I would find a crime I was suited to handle and could get to before the police or a mutant could. They were few and far between these days, but there was always the chance.

And then I heard it. Hostage situation, at the Oak Street Bank. Police negotiator on route but I was closer, and I knew that block like the back of my hand. I could sneak in and take care of them before they even knew what was happening… or so I deluded myself in my attempt to make myself feel like I still had a place in the world.

Reality proved quite different from my delusion. The police and the negotiator had arrived before I did and were stuck in a stalemate with the hostage-takers. And still, I thought that maybe I could make a difference. I knew a way in through the sewers. I could sneak in through the basement to the back room. I could get the drop on them. Take them out one by one by knocking them out with a spare velvet rope turnbuckle.

And so. Step one. Sneak through the sewer. Done. Step two. Climb in through the basement. Step three. Come up the stairs to the back room.

Step four. Find a gun pointed at my head.

"So… what do we have here…" the gunman, a well-built man in a rubber werewolf mask, said snidely. "The fuzz tryin' to sneak a guy in?" He gave my outfit a lookover. "No, not a cop, They don't dress this stupid." He snickered. "Lemme guess… you think you're some kind of superhero, don't ya? What d'you call yourself? Moron-Man?"

"Uh, well… Monkeyman, actually…"

"You're kiddin', right? Monkeyman? Well… you certainly got the smell part down."

"Gimme a break, I just came in through the sewer! You try smelling good after that!"

"I guess we'll all just have to deal with it, huh," he said, a smirk in his voice, as he manhandled me into the bank's main lobby.

There were about eight, all well-armed and wearing Halloween-style masks. The ringleader, or so I guessed because he held the walkie-talkie, wore a Frankenstein mask and held a mini-assault rifle. "Looks like we're up to eleven hostages now," he said now. "Some local yahoo trying to play hero. You pigs didn't have anything to do with it, did you? You aren't trying to put one over on us, are you?"

"Whoever that is, we have nothing to do with it."

"Can it, copper. I know you got that purple freak out there just waiting for your word to take us all out. Well, now, we've got a bit more leverage. I'm thinkin' we up our demands by another million."

"Shame it ain't the green one," Creature from the Black Lagoon said. "She's kinda hot."

"Dude, they're like, sixteen," Evil Clown retorted, appalled. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm just saying, you wouldn't know it," Lagoon replied, attempting to excuse his remark.

"Ugggh," Zombie said, disgusted. "You give crooks a bad name."

So, this was what it came to. I was going to be the big hero, and now, I was just another bargaining chip while outside, one of the mutant girls was just waiting to swoop in and take the glory. Monkeyman, you truly have stepped in it this time.

* * *

_-RHONDA-_

There was a nip in the early November air this night. If this had been a slower night, I would have called it early and gone home for hot chocolate, crappy TV and a warm blanket. Instead, I was standing outside the bank on Oak Street while a hostage situation played out inside.

Part of our deal with Bridget was, in exchange for the free gear, we would be on call as special agents when needed. This time, it was my number that came up. I was considered the best for this particular situation because of my ability to shut all electricity in the building down at a moment's notice, giving me the cover to go in and swiftly take out a bunch of blind gunmen. There were still some serious risks involved if it came down to it, though, so we wouldn't be doing that until all efforts at negotiation were exhausted. Which meant… waiting. Lots and lots of waiting.

I was sort of hanging toward the back of the crowd, helping myself to a cup of coffee (the barista at the Moonpenny's across the street had been kind enough to supply the gathered law enforcement folk, which I suppose included your friendly neighborhood purple mutant). As the situation dragged into its second hour, I was wondering if anything would ever happen.

Growing bored, I edged my way through the crowd towards Detective Fuego, who was the officer assigned to the situation. "Is _anything_ happening? I have school tomorrow. I can't spend the whole night here."

"It just got a lot more complicated, Joule," Fuego stated. "Apparently someone got it into their head to take matters into their own hands, which went abut as well as you could imagine. So, now, they have yet another hostage, and we've completely lost their trust since they don't buy that we didn't send him."

Behind my eyeshield, my eyes rolled. "Don't tell me…. It's Monkeyman, isn't it."

"Who else," Fuego remarked sardonically.

"Ugggggghhh." I groaned. Don't get me wrong, we all looked up to the guy when we were in grade school, but taking down the odd bully or low-rent thug was one thing, trying to thwart a well-planned-and-executed hostage scheme was something entirely different. I didn't want to get all "super powers make me better than thee" or anything, but the fact of the matter was that, in a situation like this, Monkeyman was simply in the way.

"In any case, they just demanded another million and there's no way the city's going to agree to that. In any other situation, we'd be forced to resort to tear gas; much as we don't want to har the hostages, it's better that they get a little teary than they get shot. But, luckily, we won't have to resort to that because we have you."

"Jeez, way to put the pressure on me."

"I'm just saying. You're our best option to minimize harm here, and while not everyone on the force is cool with you guys, I want you to know I am."

"Thanks, it's nice to know we're appreciated. So… what's the plan?"

"Well, we're going to tell him we're sending you away as a show of good faith. So, we're going to need you to be seen as leaving the area. Once the media confirms you're off the scene, because these guys are almost certainly following the internet coverage of the incident to keep track of what's going on, you're going to circle around and enter through the skylight, shutting down power first to mask your entrance." I'd been to the Oak Street bank before. It was a marvelous old building with columns, marble floors, and a lovely skylight that I was about to partially destroy. I hated breaking beautiful things, but alas, such measures were necessary on occasion. "Do you think you can approach the roof without being seen?"

I smiled. "It will give me a good chance to test this stealth mode that Bridget installed in my latest costume." That was another part of the Bridget deal; we were often her guinea pigs when it came time to test new gadgets. While the usual uniforms for her girls had a couple of built-in camouflage settings, this new one would supposedly read the environment and adapt to its surroundings on the fly. If it worked. This would be a hell of a time to test it, but drastic times… "Okay, let's do this," I said.

Fuego spoke into her walkie-talkie. "All right… as a show of good faith, I am asking Joule to disengage from the situation."

"How do we know we can trust you?" the ringleader spoke over the connection.

"This is Joule," I said into the speaker. "I'm leaving as of right now. I know you guys are following the news, you can confirm it yourselves," I said, taking off into the night sky. Once I got high enough and far away enough that I was out of the news copters' range, I circled around and descended back down to ground level several streets behind the bank, winding my way through the back alleys. When I got close, I engaged the suit's experimental stealth protocol. The suit's usual colors shifted to match its surroundings, giving me a weird see-through appearance so I looked like a floating head, tail tip, and pair of wings. "This could be a problem," I whispered to myself. "Is there anything we can do about this?"

"_Extending costume_," Bridgi stated. I felt fabric flowing over my wings, tailend, and lower face. Probably related somehow to the suit's ability to repair itself of minor damage. "Warning: Stealth mode will fail in one minute." Ah. So _there_ was the downside. It was a huge draw on the suit's power cells, and while my own powers were good for recharging my cel phone, Bridget's R&D team used power cells that weren't compatible with my powers. Using the suit's fabric-replication ability probably didn't help matters either. Best move it, then. I quickly scaled the back wall and hoisted myself on the roof, shutting stealth mode down with a few seconds to spare. I quickly tore off the extra fabric restraining my wings (the tail wasn't super important, but I needed the wings. Bad.). Another thing I'd have to bring up at the meetings.

I looked down through the skylight. A lot of places in town had them, probably some fad at one time, but in this case it was really convenient. I reached out with my electro-sense – that's a thing I have, I can feel the flow of electricity around me – and willed it all to cease.

Showtime.

* * *

_-MONKEYMAN-_

"Looks like they kept their word. The mutant chick's gone," Mummy said, checking his phone.

"Huh. Well, how about that," Frankenstein acknowledged.

I was now seated with the rest of the hostages, who were attempted to edge away as best they can, due to my odor. Clearly, I was not the most popular one here. Not that it mattered. I don't do it for the popularity. I do it to help my fellow citizens. Which, granted, I hadn't been doing a lot of lately.

"Any news on our demands?" asked Evil Clown.

"The chick they got in charge says that there might be some time before they get the money together. She could be planning to stiff us, but I kinda doubt it at this point. Besides, I'd rather not have to shoot anyone." He nodded at me. "Although I doubt anyone'd miss this one." Talk about addng insult to injury. Not to mention potentially more injury.

Any talk of shooting was immediately interrupted when the lights abruptly went out in the building. It was a moonless night and the streetlights had cut out with the building lights, so it was almost pitch black in the bank.

"What in-" The words were barely out of Frankenstein's mouth when there was a crash and something plummeting heavily to the tiled ground. A shadowy, winged figure.

"They l-" was all Mummy got out before Joule's palm connected to his face. Even as he went down like a sack of potatoes, the girl was on the move, taking out another with a kick, a third with an elbow, a fourth with a fist. Five, six, seven, until only Wolfman was left.

Wolfman wasn't about to just go down without taking advantage of his ace in the hole, however… hs hostage. Me. "Stop right there, Grimace, or Monkey Boy here gets it!"

And I don't know if it was just that insult, the accumulation of them all night, or just my frustration at the utter failure of my superhero career, but that was the straw that broke the monkey's back. "It's MonkeyMAN," I spat, suddenly elbowing Wolfman in the gut. It didn't take him out, but it threw him off-balance just long enough for Joule to clear the gap and subdue him in a more lasting fashion. With the gangsters defeated, she released her hold on the building's electricity, allowing the bank to be bathed n light once more. "'Grimace.' Hmmph. He's not the only purple character, you know. You could have called me Amethyst. I'd be flattered," she grumbled. Clearly, she had not been in a good mood, and that hadn't helped.

"Well, everything worked out," I said hopefully. "I'm really glad we could work together…"

Her head snapped toward me. "'Work together?' From where I'm standing, I just had to rescue your ass from a situation _you_ should never have been in!" She angrily poked me in the chest with her upper-left index finger. "What, just _what_, made you think that you would have been of any help here?"

And that was it. The fact that what she was saying was absolutely true, that I truly did have no business inserting myself into this situation, was irrelevant. I was done being taken for granted. Who was this… CHILD… to lecture me like this? I was fighting crime since long before she… well, I don't know just what her origin was, but I probably predated it. "I don't have to take this from you. If I hadn't been here-"

"-He wouldn't have had you for a hostage! In fact, if you hadn't decided to try to take things into your own hands, maybe we would have been able to resolve this without violence! But no, you had to be the hero. You had to shove your way into the situation you had no business being in, destroying the trust we built up, increasing the risk to the hostages. Did you think about that? No. You didn't."

Again. Everything she was saying was probably right. But ego demanded that I not back down. "How dare you. You think you're better than me because you have fancy powers and gear?"

"No… I think I'm better than you because I think before I act!" She rubbed her nose in frustration clearly trying to calm herself down. "Listen, I get that you've done good for this city. But there's a difference between stopping a mugger or a purse-snatching and dealing with a gang of well-equipped, well-coordinated criminals. You're not equipped to handle that sort of thing."

"And you are?"

"YES! Monkeyman… I think it's really time that you hang up your cape."

"But-"

"There are still a ton of ways you can help the community, if that's what you're in it for. This… isn't one of them anymore."

I wanted to tell her off, to put her in her place, but… once again, she was right. I had nothing to say to defend myself. All I could do was storm off silently. It later occurred to me that the police would have probably wanted me to stick around to give a statement, but there was no point dwelling on it. I just wanted to go.

* * *

_-RHONDA-_

"I don't know," I mused later. "Was I too hard on him?"

"_I don't know, maybe_?" Nadine suggested. I was back home now, after the criminals had been booked, the hostages released, and my statement given.

"Nadine!"

"_Sorry, but he probably already felt bad about causing trouble. Maybe you could've just quietly thanked him for his help and moved on_."

"Yeah, but-"

"_I mean, this is the guy that saved Arnold from a mugger back in fourth grade…_

"True, but-"

"_And he got Eugene out of the sewer in fifth…"_

"I know-"

"_Oh, and there was the time he saved Sid's boots…"_

"Fine, you made your point!" A part of me was mildly irritated that Nadine didn't have my back on this, but… can I really begrudge her for telling me something that I already kind of agreed with? "I… guess next time I see him, I should try to apologize… if I see him at all, that is."

"_Does your dad still go to the museum with him?"_ Yes, this was a thing that once happened.

"I doubt it. I'm pretty sure Monkeyman's whole bon-vivant about town phase was a one-shot deal. Honestly, I think he sank even further into obscurity after that."

"Well… even if I never see him, I hope he realizes that I wasn't really mad at him… okay, a little mad, but mostly frustrated. And that he doesn't do anything drastic."

_-MONKEYMAN-_

As a rule, I don't drink. Monkeyman has a reputation to live up to, after all.

_Had_ a reputation. Face it… I'm a joke. I'm a loser. A has-been. It was time for me to do what has-beens do.

"Gimme *hic* 'nother banana daiquiri, Bobo."

"I think ya had enough, Richie" Bobo suggested, shaking his head.

I grabbed him by the shirt. "I'll tell you when I've had enough," I insisted.

The barman sighed. "I knows youse is experiencerin' emotional turmoil, so I'll let dis violation of my personal space slide." He easily pried my hand off. "Lissen… don't let dat Jool goil get to yez. She prob'ly didn't means to be so harsh. Ya gotta admit, youse prob'ly wasn't cut out to stop a bunch o' terrerists."

"So now you're gonna *hic* start on me too?"

"Richie, kid… I known yez since you was in diapers. Yer a good kid. You means well. But Jool's right. Things is gettin' a lot bigger. It was only last July a flippin' alien from space trashed up my joint. T'ank goodness for insurance…"

Maybe it was the three drinks talking, but the last thing I needed from Bobo was this sympathy crap. "I was this town's hero long before she was… born? Hatched? Budded? Who cares…. Point is, she doesn't get to tell me what to do!"

"Richie, c'mon… calm down. I'll call yez a cab to take you back to yer aunt's…"

"I can get home on my own, thank you very much! I'm Monkeyman!" I declared, getting up, a bit shakily, from the barstool and staggering towards the exit.

"I don't get it," muttered Bobo. "Those was _virgin_ daiquiris."

* * *

I was out the door now, making my way home, when my eye caught the sign next door to the Two O' Diamonds. House of Wonders, the marquee read. Had this place always been here? I didn't remember ever seeing it before. "Enter freely and unafraid," the sign on the door said. Something compelled me to take a step inside.

The place had a strange, otherworldly quality to it, and the wide array of odd knickknacks lining the shelves did nothing to alleviate that. A train lantern made of some sort of green metal. A book that seemed to have a human face stitched onto the cover. An old music box with three colored jewels set in the front. Each oddity odder than the last.

"Welcome." A voice suddenly spoke up from behind. Either I was drunker than I thought, or someone had just shown up out of nowhere. I turned, slowly to avoid the wave of nausea that would come with quick movements, and beheld the speaker, a tall, gaunt man in a red suit and top hat. With red hair and a pointy goatee. His ears actually looked a bit pointed as well, and there was something off about his eyes.

"I see you are perusing my stock," he said. "Has anything caught your fancy? I'm sure we can find something in your price range…"

"You're the devil, aren't you," I said. "You're gonna give me something amazing and it'll cost me my immortal soul."

"It's the suit, isn't it," the shopkeeper said to himself. "I knew I should have gone with the green one, but this just fit so well… Oh, never mind. No, I'm not the devil, and no, I don't want your soul. This is about capitalism… well, not late-stage capitalism, that _does_ claim your soul, but- oh, you no what I mean. We just do normal business here. You give me your money, I give you stuff. That's the way it's worked for centuries, and I see no reason to stop now."

"You wouldn't happen to have anything for a down-on-his-luck superhero, would you?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, I may have just the thing…" He took a circlet off the shelf. "The Crown of the Monkey King," he identified. "It grants phenomenal power. Wear this, and you will be a force to be reckoned with."

"Really?"

"Yes, though there are a few side effects, lossofinhibitions, misalignedmoralcompass, nothing serious…

"Huh? What was that?" I said, eyeing the crown.

"Nothing, go on, try it on for size…"

Alarm bells should have been going off in my head, but drinks and despair convinced me that I had nothing to lose. I placed the crown on my head. Immediately, I felt my body fill with unimaginable power. And my mind… my mind filled with possibilities.

When the surge ended, I took a look at myself. I now had the body of an Adonis. Bronzed skin, rippling muscles, flowing hair. And the tail I'd always wanted. I was the Monkeyman I always dreamed of – no. Not Monkeyman. Monkey KING.

"I think I'll take it." I said.

"Very good, now as to your payment options…"

"I said I'd take it," I said, lifting him off the ground. "Any objections?"

"Just one," he said, snapping his fingers. Immedately, the effects of the crown shut off and I was back to my old puny self. It was like I'd been ripped in half. I craved… no, _needed_… that power back. "Fail safe, you see. The shop's enchanted so I can immediately cancel any magical effect within its walls. You're not the first to get a bit… reluctant about paying, you know."

"Please…" I whispered. "I need this."

"Then let's talk price," he said smugly.

* * *

**Well, here's the next chapter, and everyone can hopefully see it! The site seems to be working again, so I hope everyone enjoys it.**

**Monkeyman's real name is a tribute to his VA, Andy Dick. **

**Our mysterious shopkeeper makes another appearance, and no, he's still not the devil. We wil be seeing just who he is and where he comes from soon enough, and it'll involve characters from a certain show I've grown very fond of. I'll give you a hint: Hoot hoot!**

**Jose: Thanks, it was my first time coming up with a Gerald story, glad I did good!**

**Veganmama: Yep, factory farming is indeed very scary. Glad you loved the chapter!**

**Next time, on BODY ISSUES Z… the Monkey King hits town! See you then!**


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